


You Gotta Do What You Gotta Do

by 0shadow_panther0



Series: you gotta do what you gotta do [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical language, F/M, Fluff, LGBTQA+ characters galore, M/M, Nonbinary Character, POV Second Person, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Backstory, Slow Burn, Some OC's - Freeform, felix mcscouty aka whiney mcpissbaby, nobody knows how to deal with feelings, reader identifies as female, reader is a former freelancer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 52,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6995980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0shadow_panther0/pseuds/0shadow_panther0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You can’t send me with him,” you hissed to Locus.<br/>“And why is that?” he asked. You could imagine a single, unimpressed raised eyebrow under his helmet.<br/>“I broke his wrist,” you said flatly. “And I’m pretty sure he’ll try to kill me.”<br/>“Then break his other arm,” Locus replied dryly. “Any injuries he has are due to his own incompetence.”<br/>You blinked. That hadn’t been the response you were expecting.<br/>“Besides,” Locus continued, as if he hadn’t just suggested that you maim his partner, “we need you to unlock your suit for the information. I would expect that Felix’s love for money would override any immediate urge to incapacitate you.”<br/>"I'm right here, assholes," Felix growled.</p><p>In a maybe-not-so-unfortunate turn of events, you are thrown into the partnership of the deadly mercenary duo Felix and Locus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“This is Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. LZ is cleared and ready to go. I repeat, LZ is cleared and ready to go, over.” The static-filled voice echoed in your headset.

“Roger that, Whiskey. I’ve got the data. ETA twenty minutes. Prep the LZ for extraction,” you responded. You idly nudged one of the prone bodies of several guards littered the ground around you. You weren’t sure whether they were dead or merely unconscious, but either way, they weren’t getting up anytime soon.

And by then you’d be long gone.

“Nice job V. This’ll get us enough cash to last us a good, long while,” Whiskey said cheerfully.

“All in a day’s work,” you replied, holstering your rifle and jogging towards the landing zone, away from the emptied base that you had just ransacked.

“I dunno why our employers need this crap, but they’re paying a helluva lot for it,” the pilot continued.

“Don’t care, don’t ask,” you said. “I don’t want a cut to our paycheck because someone couldn’t keep their mouth shut.”

“That was one time!” Whiskey said defensively. You could only imagine the flustered, embarrassed flush spreading across his face at the memory. “How could I have known that the guy wanted the surveillance footage to peek on girls!”

You snickered. “I’ll see you soon, buddy.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

The comm clicked off, and for a few minutes, there was nothing but the sound of your calm, regular breathing and the steady beat of your footsteps.

“Uh... V? I think we have a problem.” The shimmering, blue holographic form of your AI materialized above your shoulder.

“What is it, Zeta?” you asked. You were less than ten minutes away from Whiskey’s Pelican. The last thing that you needed was a problem.

“I’ve got six heat sigs behind you,” Zeta said. “You might want to turn around.”

“How far?”

“Half a klick and closing in fast,” Zeta reported.

Swearing, you pivoted, swinging your rifle off your back and holding it steady.

“Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, clear the LZ. I’ve got hostiles on my tail and am about to engage. I’ll radio back when everything is clear, over.”

“Roger that V. Taking off.” There was a brief pause. “Stay safe.”

You snorted. “Safe? Hardly know the meaning of the word.”

There was a soft huff of laughter that came in through your comm before it cut off.

“V, hostiles approaching. 750 feet,” Zeta reported.

The easy grin you had been wearing slipped off. “Alright Zeta. I need you to scan them. Equipment, bios, anything you can get.” You glanced around. Nothing but the cliffside to your right, the lake to your left, and the uphill slope leading to the LZ behind you. “Also, some cover would be nice.”

“I'm an AI, not a magician,” Zeta muttered. “Fine. There's an outcrop of rock on the cliff about a hundred feet back. Ten feet wide, thirteen feet high. Not much more I can do about cover, though. We're sitting ducks out here.”

“I'll work with it,” you said. “And the enemies?”

“From what I can tell... Four of them have pretty standard UNSC equipment. Burst-fire assault rifles, decent armor. Basic carbon-fiber and plating, looks like. Ooooh... One of them has some sort of heavy weaponry, though.”

“And the other two?”

A low whistle. “Not so much. They've got some pretty heavy armor, looks like. It- it almost looks like...”

“Like what?” you prompted.

“...Like the stuff from Freelancer.”

You stiffened. “You sure, Zeta?”

“There are some differences, but yeah, pretty sure. I can see they've got some enhancements, but I can't tell what kind yet. Also, three hundred feet and closing.”

“Damn it!”

You dashed back towards the cliff, ducking behind the rock. You hastily took stock of your supplies- three mags of forty rounds each, two flashbangs, and two grenades. More than enough for six normal mercs, but...

“V, whatever you’re going to do, do it fast. 150 feet.”

“On it.”

Zeta flickered out of sight, but the familiar hum of his presence still echoed in the back of your mind.

You took and deep breath, and peeked out from behind cover, and tossed the flashbang, and crouched back down.

‘One Mississippi.”

“Target’s around here somewhere!”

‘Two Mississippi.”

“There’s no where they can hide, find them!”

‘Bang.’

“What the hell? Is that-”

The sound of a stun grenade rang out and you whirled around cover. Two mercs were stumbling around, holding their heads as they suffered from the brunt of the flashbang. You took aim fired two shots, and they dropped.

'Ten o’clock,' Zeta warned.

You spun around and ducked around the heavy swing from the third merc and shoved him back with the butt of your rifle. He fell back, and you gunned him down with extreme prejudice.

“Bitch!” someone snarled.

You glanced over and swore. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

You dove to the ground as a RPG sailed above your head. The crazed laughter of the mercenary filled the air. He was standing on the one of the ledges that lined the cliffside, a solid forty feet up.

“How the hell did he manage to get up there?!” you demanded.

You sprinted across the ground. Without cover, you wouldn’t stand much of a chance against rockets. You blind-fired as you ran, emptying your first clip and reloading. The sharp ping of bullets across plating told you that you hadn’t managed to hit your target properly.

A rocket exploded by your feet and launched you into the air. You hit the ground in a roll, just in time for another rocket to fling you thirty feet.

Groaning, you clambered to your feet. The merc was reloading his RPG, granting you a brief moment of respite.

'V, it’s now or never.'

“I know! Zeta, divert as much power as you can to my greaves. I need to make a jump.”

'Affirmative.'

“On my mark. Three... two...” The whir of your armor enhancements rang in your ears. “NOW!”

You sprang up, the ground beneath you crumbling with the force. The merc flinched and lifted his RPG to take aim, just a moment too late.

There was the sickening crunch of your boot meeting his skull and he crumpled, falling off the cliff to the ground below. You landed with significantly less grace than you preferred, nearly stumbling off the ledge.

You leapt down, staggering as you dropped. Groaning, you struggled to catch your breath. “Let’s not do that again,” you managed to gasp. Zeta hummed in agreement. “Now, where are the other two?” you asked.

“You called?”

You whirled around and fired. A mercenary with black and orange armor danced out of the way of your shots. Suddenly, he dashed forward, the glint of a knife flashing in his hands.

You jerked back, but he lodged the blade deep into the bolt of your rifle. You tried to fire again, but the gun was jammed.

“Whoopsie. Wouldn’t want to hurt anyone now, would we?” he asked. Even with the helmet obscuring his face, you could easily imagine the shit-eating smirk on his face. “Now, you’ve got some data that’s particularly valuable to my employers. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

You tossed the rifle aside with a growl.

‘ _Zeta_.’

‘I got you,’ the AI murmured in your mind, the familiar energy of your armor’s strength modifiers humming throughout your body.

You threw the first punch.

The merc managed to block, but the force of the blow sent him skidding back. He grunted with surprise.

“Well, little lady,” he wheezed, “you’ve got one hell of an arm.”

You darted forward, sending a jab to his stomach, where there was only the thick weave of his suit to protect him. He ducked down and guarded with crossed arms. You followed with a sharp kick to his groin.

The knifeman managed to tuck his leg in, so instead of the direct blow to his crotch you were aiming for, you only landed a boot to his inner thigh and a glancing hit to his codpiece. However, with your enhanced strength, it was more than enough to send him stumbling.

The mercenary straightened and cocked an arm back. You held up your arms, ready to block a punch, but the glitter of metal in the sun was the only warning you got before a lancing pain shot through your shoulder.

You snarled, dropping your guard for a moment to yank the knife out of your shoulder. Zeta signaled your suit to flood the wounded area with medigel, and with moments, the pain had been numbed down to a dull tingle.

You weighed the knife in your hands contemplatively, eyeing the merc as he stood his ground.

Without warning, you launched yourself at him, knife firmly in hand. You aimed for the same spot he had hit you in- a gap in the armor between the chest plate and the pauldrons. He shifted out of the way, and you pivoted, bring the blade down in a diagonal slash.

He had pulled out two more knives, and he blocked your cut with one as he brought the other around in an attempt to stab you. You brought your knee up sharply, catching his wrist between your knee and your elbow. A satisfying crack filled your ears and the merc swore, reeling back and clutching his wrist, dropping both of his weapons as he did.

You pulled your arm back, ready to drive the knife into the unarmored, exposed part of the mercenary’s neck.

Suddenly, the sounds of an explosion rang out. You whirled around, eyes wide. A Pelican was rapidly descending, smoking pouring from a massive hole that had been blown into its side.

A resounding crash echoed as it hit the ground.

You froze. “No,” you whispered. “NO!”

Everything went black.

* * *

Locus materialized into existence, standing over the unconscious body of the hired gun that had caused them so much trouble.

“Took you long enough,” Felix groused, gingerly cradling his injured hand.

“You underestimated her,” his partner said flatly. “Any injuries you sustained were your own fault.”

“Shut the hell up. Just grab the data and kill her already,” Felix grumbled, trudging off irritably.

Locus crouched down and attempted to access the data crystal chip embedded in her armor, where the info that they needed was most likely stored. He connected his data port with the immobile soldier’s, intending to just transfer all of their files and to sort through the intel later.

There was a sudden, piercing ringing in his helmet and Locus grimaced, disconnecting his suit hastily.

“Hey, Locus, hurry the fuck up!” Felix called, glancing down at the corpses of the mercs. “Let’s get out of this shithole and get our pay.”

After a moment’s consideration, Locus lifted the body up, throwing her over his shoulder.

Felix stared. “What the hell are you doing.”

“Her suit is well protected,” Locus stated. “If we want to extract the data, we’ll either need to take her suit, or she’ll have to give it to us willingly.”

“How much time will it take to do it ourselves?’”

“Undetermined. If her suit is as heavily guarded as I think it is, it may take up to two weeks.”

Felix swore violently. “We don’t have that kind of time,” he snarled. “Our deadline is a week and a half!”

“Then we’ll convince her to hand it over.”

“And how, exactly, do you plan to do that?”

Locus turned to the flaming wreckage of the Pelican.

“I have an idea.”

* * *

 

You woke up, dazed and confused. You were lying on a thin cot in what appeared to be a medical bay, surrounded by white walls. The scent of antiseptic and sterilizers made you feel sick to your stomach.

Your armor had been stripped off and was nowhere in sight- the only thing you were wearing was a flimsy hospital gown.

“Zeta?” you murmured groggily,

‘I’m here,” the AI confirmed, less of a voice and more of a low buzz in the back of your mind..

“What the hell happened?”

There was a brief hesitation. ‘You were knocked out by the sixth mercenary,’ Zeta began. One of them tried to extract the files from your suit, but I managed to block him out. The two of them brought you onto their ship.’

“And what about Whiskey?”

‘The mercenaries shot down his Pelican, but it looks like he’s still alive. They carried his body back here. I think their gonna try to use him as a hostage or something, try to negotiate him for the files.’

“They can have the damn files. I want my partner back.”

You heard the whoosh of the med bay door opening, and you automatically closed your eyes and feigned sleep.

“Don’t bother pretending,” someone said, voice deep and low. “Your vitals spiked just now. I know you’re awake.”

You scowled and reopened your eyes, raising up a little and resting back on your elbows. A tall man, fully suited up in hunter green armor, stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed.

“Who the hell are you?” you snarled, clutching at the sheet of the cot with trembling fists.

“I am Locus,” the man said.

You opened your mouth to demand where Whiskey and your armor were, but he interrupted you.

“Your suit is fully intact. Felix is keeping it in his room. Your companion is being held nearby.”

“Take me to him,” you demanded.

You could feel the intensity of Locus’ gaze even through the barrier of his visor. Without your armor, you felt vulnerable, and you resisted the urge to pull the sheets over your body.

Suddenly, Locus turned away. “Come,” he ordered.

You stared at his back for a split second, eyes wide, before scrambling off the cot and to your feet. You swayed uncertainly as you struggled to gain your bearings, your half-healed knife wound throbbing in your shoulder. You vaguely noticed Locus stop at the door and turn, waiting for you with an uncomfortable, judgmental silence.

You didn’t so much walk towards him as stumble, your head still swimming from your bout of unconsciousness. You grimaced as you leaned heavily on the door frame, gently massaging your injured shoulder.

Locus walked away stiffly without so much as a glance, and you did your best to follow his long strides in your weakened state. He didn’t look back, but you noticed that he slowed his pace slightly so you could keep up.

You attempted to follow the twists of the hallways, but everything was so impossibly uniform that you lost your bearings by the time you had taken a dozen turns. Your bare feet padded softly along the cold metal floor.

Eventually, Locus led you to a door that looked exactly like every other godforsaken door in the place. A guard was stationed by it, and he saluted as Locus entered. To your surprise, Locus returned the gesture with a nod of acknowledgement, and the guard stood up a little straighter.

As soon as the door opened, you all but ran inside.

Whiskey, bloody and bruised, was leaning against the wall. There was a dangerous looking cut that stretched from his temple to his jaw and blood plastered his hair to his head. An angry burn covered the opposite side of his face from ear to cheek. His armor was gone and his suit was in tatters, various gashes and burns littering his body.

He looked up slowly, pain tightening his features. “‘Sup, V,” he said weakly, a small, crooked grin spreading across his mouth. “You come here often?”

You crouched down in front of him, hands ghosting over his wounds and a deep furrow forming between your brows.

“You’re hurt really bad,” you murmured. “God, I’m- damn it- I’m so sorry, Whiskey.”

“Dun’ worry about it,” Whiskey mumbled. “‘Sides, we’ve had worse.”

You laughed humorlessly. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, remember? That one run on Mariposa? Those Covenant sons of bitches blew us outta the sky.” Whiskey snickered, but his voice fell away to a pained groan.

You were suddenly very aware of Locus standing behind you.

“He needs medical attention,” you said, keeping your eyes locked on Whiskey’s.

The mercenary studied you from behind. “We have a qualified medical team on board-” he began.

“No. He needs a hospital, and I don’t trust you.” You stood and turned to face him. “If you take him to the hospital, I’ll give you the files you want.”

Locus nodded. “Deal.”

“And,” you added, “I want to see that Whiskey makes it all the way there.” You drew yourself to your full height. “ I’m going with him.”

Locus stilled, as if contemplating your demand. The tension built up in your muscles until you were as rigid as stone.

“Fine,” Locus said, and you breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. “But you will be escorted. Felix will be accompanying you.”

You blinked. “Who’s Felix?”

“Me.”

The mercenary in black and orange armor was leaning against the door. His gauntlets were off, revealing a splint over the wrist that you had broken. He held his helmet loosely by his side, his hair tousled and unkempt.

Felix grinned viciously, his teeth bared in a mockery of a smile.

“Hey there, sweetheart. I’ve got a score to settle with you.”

Oh.

“You can’t send me with him,” you hissed to Locus.

“And why is that?” he asked. You could imagine a single, unimpressed raised eyebrow under his helmet.

“I broke his wrist,” you said flatly. “And I’m pretty sure he’ll try to kill me.”

“Then break his other arm,” Locus replied drily. “Any injuries he has are due to his own incompetence.”

You blinked. That hadn’t been the response you were expecting.

“Besides,” Locus continued, as if he hadn’t suggested that you maim his partner, “we need you to unlock your suit for the information. I would expect that Felix’s love for money would override any immediate urge to incapacitate you.”

“I’m right here, assholes,” Felix growled, pushing himself off the door and striding to an uncomfortably close distance.

You slid yourself directly between Whiskey and Felix, eyeing the hot tempered merc warily. He was the last person you wanted alone with Whiskey.

“You have your orders, Felix,” Locus said. He turned to the guard. “Inform the pilot of our new destination and prepare a shuttle for landing,” he instructed. The guard saluted and jogged off.

Felix stood ramrod straight, stiff and tense.

“Felix,” Locus said warningly.

“Fine!” he spat, lips curling into a sneer. “But don’t expect me to play nice.”

“I would never.”

There was a long, strained silence. No one moved, and you barely dared to breath.

“Well then,” Whiskey began. The noise was so unexpected that you flinched. Felix seemed to jerk to attention and Locus twitched minisculely. “With that out of the way, do you think I could get a nicer room?” He shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe one with a bed?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually searched up a bunch of military lingo so i hope that it looks moderately okay  
> also there are some halo references since technically rvb takes place in the halo universe  
> kinda  
> i guess


	2. Chapter 2

After several long moments of silence, Locus called a soldier over to assist Whiskey to his new room. You made as if to follow, but Locus stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“You will not be staying with him,” he told you.

“Why not?” you protested. You leaned to the side to catch a glimpse of your heavily injured friend, who was leaning on the guard assigned to him for support. “In his state, we’re in no position to attempt to escape,” you argued. “Plus, I already made a deal with you.”

“It is simply protocol,” Locus said, the same time Felix jeered, “What, too afraid to stick around without your boyfriend to protect you?”

You bared your teeth in a snarl. “I wasn’t so scared when I beat the shit outta you earlier,” you spat.

The smirk disappeared from Felix’s face. “You little-”

“Enough.” Locus’ voice cut between the two of you like the business end of a cleaver.

You shut your mouth immediately, but Felix was more reluctant to do so, muttering insults under his breath.

“There is a medical facility approximately six hours away,” Locus said. You could tell that, between your demands and Felix’s irritability, his patience was wearing thin. “For now, you will stay in my room.”

“What.”

“There will be an armed guard outside the door at all times,” he continued, nonplussed by your outburst. “Your armor will be moved and held separately until it is time to extract the data files that we need. When we reach the medical facility, you and your friend will be sent down via shuttle, along with Felix and two other armed guards. We will drop him off, and you will return. Are we clear?”

Locus’ tone made it very clear that we wouldn’t accept any objections.

“Crystal,” you bit out.

“Good,” he said shortly. Locus turned to his partner. “Felix, go find someone to spar with and cool your head.”

The other merc bristled at the command, but stormed off, scowling darkly.

As Felix left, you let yourself relax a bit. He was volatile and aggressive, and with him out of the room, you could breathe a bit easier.

Locus faced you, his piercing gaze unnerving you even behind the visor.

“As for you,” he said coldly, “come with me.”

You grimaced but nodded, trotting obediently at his heels when he turned to leave.

“How long was I unconscious?” you asked.

“Six hours,” Locus said, curt and brusque. It was obvious that he was in no mood for conversation. You didn’t even think he even had emotions other than stone-cold and slightly pissed.

As you followed Locus through the long, uniform corridors, you took the opportunity to talk to Zeta. ‘ _Hey, can you tell what kind of ship we’re in?_ ’

‘Hard to tell without any access to scanners. I’m guessing some sort of light frigate,’ the AI replied.

 _‘If I can get access to my suit, do you think you can pull up a blueprint of the place?’_ you asked.

‘Probably.’

Any further conversation was interrupted by Locus’ abrupt stop.

“Inside,” he ordered stiffly.

The entrance to the room swished open and you stumbled in, shivering as the doors shut behind you. You glanced around warily.

You spotted a surveillance camera on the ceiling in the corner of the room. ‘ _Stay out of sight, Z,_ ’ you thought. ‘ _We’re being watched_.’

‘Alright.’

The room was stark and clean to the point where it looked completely unlived in. The bed was made perfectly, and the desk that was shoved into the corner was bare, save for a single pen and what appeared to be a small, neat stack of documents. A brief once-over showed that was nothing of worth, just the bare essentials- there weren’t even any personal objects lying around.

“It looks like a military barrack,” you muttered.

‘Minus the bunk beds,’ Zeta snickered. There was brief pause. ‘He could’ve been in the army before becoming a merc,’ Zeta pointed out. ‘Maybe he fought in the Great War. Explains the experience.’

You hummed in acknowledgement, leaning over to browse the small collection of books on the top of a wardrobe. Among them, you spotted Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. It looked old and well-used, the worn leather bindings permanently creased from use.

“Oh yeah,” you huffed. “Definitely a military man.”

You paced the ground anxiously. You hated that you couldn’t be with Whiskey, that he was alone and helpless, surrounded by hostile mercenaries.

‘Calm down,’ Zeta murmured in your mind. ‘He’ll be fine.’

Growling in frustration, you flopped onto the bed, uncaring of how you rumpled the sheets. Gently, you grazed your fingers across the bandages over your knife wound. The thin cloth of your hospital shift scratched at the tender skin around the injury.

You froze.

“Hey,” you called out into the empty room, glaring at the camera. “I know you can hear me, assface.

“Who the hell took my clothes?”

\--

You woke to the sound of the doors opening.

You jerked up, groggy and bleary-eyed. You must have dozed off earlier.

“Wha-,” you mumbled.

“We will reach the hospital in one hour,” Locus said. He tossed something onto the bed. “Change into these,”  
You stared at the clothes and gingerly picked them up, as if you expected them to blow up in your face. It was a simple track suit, with the UNSC logo emblazoned across the chest and down one leg. A black tank top with same logo was folded up in the pile of clothes.

“Um,” you said. “Thanks?” You hesitated. “Do you- uh- want me to change now or are you gonna leave?”

“I will stay.”

You blinked. “Okay.” Years and years in the co-ed locker rooms in The Mother of Invention had basically stamped out any awkwardness that came with being partially naked around men, and Locus seemed professional enough that he wouldn’t ogle.

Hopefully.

You shrugged out of the flimsy hospital gown. Luckily, whoever had changed your clothes had left your underwear alone, and you took a moment to adjust the strap of your sports bra. You noticed Locus staring. It wasn’t anything sexual- he was simply sizing you up as an enemy, appraising you. You felt his gaze linger on a long scar that started from your right hip and stretched across the lean, toned muscles of your stomach and over your chest, ending just above the opposite collar bone.

“You have had experience with war,” Locus said suddenly.

You stilled. “Yeah,” you said. “I have.” Locus didn’t say anything more, and you didn’t elaborate.

You balled your hands into tight fists for a split second, chilled by the memories his comment brought back, before hastily shrugging on the clothes that Locus gave you. The sweatpants were at least two sizes too big, and you pulled the drawstrings tight around your hips. The tank top fit a little better, but the sleeves of the jacket fell over your hands. Impatiently, you pushed them back to your elbows. Your feet were still noticeably bare.

Locus didn’t say anything as you finished, but gave you a brief once-over before turning and striding out the door. “Felix will come to collect you later,” he called over his shoulder, and then the doors swished shut.

“Well,” you said mildly. “That was interesting.”

\--

The clock on the wall said that thirty minutes had passed before Felix finally appeared to pick you up.

“Get up,” he said roughly. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you hopped off the bed and ambled towards him. As you passed him, he shoved you forward. “Hurry up!”

At that, you did roll your eyes. You eyed the guard that stood by the door. Unlike Locus, Felix did nothing to acknowledge the soldier as he stalked away.

The winding hallways were no less boring than the last two times you had trekked through them, and you busied yourself with studying Felix’s back. His movements were stiff and angry, and his boots clanked loudly on the floors, a stark contrast to the noiseless padding of your bare feet.

You let your gaze drift down his back and you raised your eyebrows. Felix may have been a total dick, but damn if he didn’t have a nice ass.

‘Ew,’ Zeta groaned. ‘Really?’

A tiny grin curled at the corner of your mouth, but it quickly fell off when the two of you stopped.

You saw Whiskey on the other end of the corridor, struggling to stand as he tightly gripped the shoulder one of the guards that stood by him. He had exchanged his tattered undersuit for a thin hospital shift, but still looked absolutely horrible.

You broke into a jog and you were by his side in seconds.

“You doing alright?” you asked.

“Hurts to breathe,” he rasped, clutching at his ribs.You clenched your jaw and frowned. If Whiskey wasn’t making jokes, then it was serious.

You gingerly lifted the shift over his chest and grimaced at the sight. The skin was dark and mottled with ugly bruises, and an angry, weeping gash cut across his chest. The wound looked inflamed and hot. You gently brushed the back of your hand against his forehead and flinched back.

“Shit,” you muttered. He was burning up. Looking more closely, you noticed that Whiskey’s face was flushed and sweating. His pupils were blown wide, and he shivered almost imperceptibly.

“We need to go,” you said tightly. “Now.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Felix spat.

You whirled around to face him. “Listen here,” you snarled, “at this point, I couldn’t give two shits about those goddamn files and the money. But if he dies, you’re never going to get them. Do. You. Understand?”

Felix grit his teeth angrily. “You,” he said to a guard. “Get him onto the shuttle.”

The guard saluted and turned to Whiskey. Your partner leaned on him heavily and they made their way through the door.

You started to follow them, but Felix’s hand wrapped around your arm in a grip strong enough to bruise.

“When we get back,” he said, slowly, tightly, “we’re gonna have a nice, long chat about the rules of this ship. Okay, sweetheart?”

Your blood ran cold, but you met Felix’s burning gaze levelly.

“Fine by me.”

With that, you turned and strode purposefully past the door and into the hangar bay, walking quickly until you caught up to Whiskey and his escort. You could hear the heavy clanking of Felix’s boots and the regular steps of the second guard behind you.

You glanced around warily as you settled yourself down into the shuttle, making it a point to keep yourself between Whiskey and Felix.

The pod jerked to life, and through the window you could see the medical facility. As pilot of the shuttle informed the facility of your arrival, you murmured soft reassurances to Whiskey, who had gone unnaturally pale.

“You’ll be okay,” you whispered, gripping his hand tightly. The responding pressure of Whiskey’s hand in yours was comforting, but your mouth was drawn into a tight line.

Whiskey squeezed your hand, and you looked up to meet his tired gaze. “I’ll be okay,” he echoed. He gave you a genuine, albeit weary smile, and you managed a gentle grin in return.

“Hate to ruin the moment,” Felix said, voice thick with sarcasm, “but it’s time to move.”

You felt the shuttle slow to a stop as it docked, and you helped Whiskey up, letting him sling an arm around your shoulders as you wrapped your arm around his waist, careful not to irritate the bruises and cuts across his torso.

You were surrounded by medical personnel moments after you stepped off the ship. A gurney was brought out, and several people pried Whiskey away and settled him on the it. You waved off some of the doctors that were prodding at you.

“I’m fine,” you insisted stubbornly. “I just need to know Whiskey will be okay.”

“Your friend has sustained some pretty serious injuries,” a nurse told you. You bit back as sharp, ‘No shit.’ “I’ll need his name so we can look up his medical records.”

“He doesn’t have any. Records, I mean.” ‘None that you could access,’ you added internally.

“What do you mean?”

“His parents were junkers,” you lied smoothly. “You know how they are.”

The nurse made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat. “Oh, I know all right,” she huffed.

‘Nice save,’ Zeta buzzed.

‘ _Hush, you_.’

“Anyway,” you said aloud, “will he be alright?”

“Your friend will be fine,” the nurse said. “We'll probably need to keep him under observation for a week or two but then he'll be home free.”

A wave of relief crashed into you and you sighed audibly. “Thank god,” you murmured.

“Hey sweetheart.” Felix appeared at your shoulder, all feral grins and blazing cold eyes. “Time to go.”

You cast one longing glance towards the direction that Whiskey has been wheeled to and turned.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Let's go.”

The ride back to the main ship was tense and awkward.

Felix dragged his uninjured hand through his messy undercut, lips curled into a snarl and eyebrows furrowed. He was angry, and you were wary- rightfully so.

When you finally made it back to the hangar, you all but scrambled to escape Felix’s stifling presence. Locus was waiting just outside, arms crossed and still in full armor.

Felix was close behind, and as soon as he stepped out he chucked his helmet at the ground viciously. Swearing profusely, he turned to Locus.

“I'm going to my room,” he ground out. “Don't call for me unless the ship is on fire or this bitch is gone.”

You raised your eyebrows slightly as you watched his retreating back, perturbed by his animosity.

“His pride is wounded,” Locus said, as if reading your mind. “He’ll get over it.”

“Hopefully I'll be long gone by then,” you quipped. “I suppose I owe you some files, then.”

Locus nodded and strode away. You followed closely behind.

“Your suit’s in here,” he said, punching in a code into a panel by doorway- you noted the code as you peered over his shoulder, but doubted it would ultimately be of much use.

The door slid open, revealing a storage room. Locus led you a bit deeper in and you found your armor placed nearly on top of a wooden box.

Your undersuit was missing, likely damaged and thrown away, but you were glad enough just to have your armor back that you really couldn't bring yourself to care. Undersuits were replaceable. The armor wasn't.

You practically tore off the the jacket that your were wearing and grabbed your chestpiece, letting it a small, relieved sigh when you felt the comforting weight of the metal across your shoulders. Next came the greaves, which you fitted around your plain black pants, and the boots on your bare feet. The gauntlets came after, and despite the slight chafing, you were content to have them on your person. Finally, you slipped on your helmet, smiling a bit when the visor display came to life and a small holo of Zeta waved at you on the screen.

“Where do you want the files?” you asked, pulling up the files and sorting through them briefly.

Locus wordlessly handed you a data chip, which you slid into a port on your gauntlet and transferred the files into.

The chip popped out and you tossed it back to Locus. “My business here is done,” you said. “Now get me out of here.”

Locus didn't respond, but plugged the chip into his own gauntlet and and pulled of the files.

“They're encrypted,” Locus growled.

“Not my problem,” you replied. “You wanted the files, you got them. As far as I'm concerned, my job here is done.”

“Did you do this?” he asked.

You shrugged. “They were encrypted when I found them,” you said.

Locus swore under his breath, and you could imagine the scowl that was forming under his helmet.

“Felix,” he growled into his comm, “meet me at the bridge.” He turned to you. “Come with me.”

You started to open your mouth to protest, but Locus had already turned away and stormed off. You debated making a run for it- now that you had your suit back, it would be a simple matter to pull up a map of the ship and rushing for the nearest shuttle- but you were just one person on a ship full of god knew how many soldiers in the middle of space.

You sighed and trotted after Locus.

This was not a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god bless season 14 episode 9 for my beautiful sons  
> im so glad felix is the skinny white boy we all knew he was and that locus is a PoC. also siris.  
> i actually had some headcanon doodles for locus' face on my tumblr. if you wanna see them, they're right here- https://panth-arts.tumblr.com/post/145121162588


	3. Chapter 3

“What the hell do you mean it’s encrypted?!” Felix spat. A couple of mercs milling around the bridge glanced over. “The fuck you looking at?”

“Exactly what I said,” Locus replied with remarkable calmness.

Felix swore loudly, running his fingers through his hair. He pointed an accusatory finger at you. “This is somehow your fault, isn't it?” he snarled.

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s not,” you replied easily. The files were encrypted when I collected them. I was going to decrypt them once I got out, but...” You shrugged. “You guys showed up.”

“You can decrypt them?” Locus asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Why? You can’t?”

Felix bared his teeth and Locus shifted uncomfortably.

‘Aw. You made them feel incompetent.’

‘ _Oh my god, Zeta._ ’

“Then you will decrypt them,” Locus said, crossing his arms in what you assumed was an attempt to intimidate you.

‘What.’

“What,” you said flatly.

The green armored mercenary tilted his head slightly as he continued to stare at you. “You. Will. Decrypt. The files.”

“Yeah, no way,” you snapped. “I don't owe you guys anything.”

Felix stepped forward, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. “Alright bitch,” he spat. “Don't forget that you're the one surrounded by armed men.”

Rage prickled at your blood.

‘Oh boy,’ Zeta muttered.

In the span of a second you crossed the distance between you and Felix. You grabbed his bad wrist and yanked him so that his arm was twisted behind his back painfully, and his harsh curses cut off abruptly as you drew your arm across his throat.

“Who's the bitch now?” you purred in his ear.

Felix struggled for a moment and you pressed down on his throat a little harder. He froze. You smiled.

To their credit, the other mercs didn't just sit around fiddling with their dicks. As soon as you had started to move, they did too. Moments after you had Felix pinned, about a half dozen guns were pointed in your general direction. You kept a careful eye on Locus- he snuck past you once already, and that resulted with you unconscious and in an extraordinarily undesirable situation, and you had no intention of letting that happen again.

‘What?’ Zeta snorted. ‘This situation ain't undesirable enough for you?”

Felix’s hand scrabbling at your arm made you realize that you had been unconsciously tensing up, and choking Felix even more. You relaxed your grip slightly, and he wheezed in a grateful breath.

Locu had a rather large and imposing shotgun aimed at your head, but no matter how good of a shot he was, there was no way he could shoot you and keep Felix out of the spread.

The silence affected longer and longer before Locus let out a tiny huff of air. “You made your point,” he growled, lowering his gun. “Stand down and leave,” he told the others.

The men holstered their weapons, hesitating for a moment before dispersing.

You could feel Locus’ gaze focus on your face. “I am willing to negotiate,” he said calmly. “Release Felix.”

You felt Felix twitch and you tightened your hold on him for a second, just to spite him, and released him. He stumbled away and immediately pulled his pistol from his holster, aiming it directly at you.

“You bitch!” he roared, and you rolled out of the way of two shots that landed harmlessly at your feet and crouched behind the control console. You heard Felix swear- you knew he wouldn’t risk shooting now- not with the precious ship controls in the way.

“Felix!” Locus barked. “Stand down!”

There were sounds of a brief scuffle and you risked a peek. Locus was attempting to wrestle the gun from Felix without accidentally shooting himself- or worse, the ship controls. He cuffed Felix over the head harshly and yanked the gun out of his hand when his grip loosened.

“Enough,” Locus growled. “You are an embarrassment.”

When he judged that Felix looked suitably chastised, he turned back to you.

“So,” you said mildly. “Negotiations?”

* * *

 

You, Locus, and Felix seated yourselves around a table in the mess hall. It was empty- Zeta informed you that it was around three in the afternoon, so all the other soldiers were probably still on duty.

“I feel like introductions are in order,” you said with cordiality that was so fake it put corn syrup to shame. “You can call me V.”

Locus huffed. “I suppose you know both of us by now,” he said dryly. “You,” Locus began, “have information that we need. I would be willing negotiate profit splits. Our employer is offering us 300,000 credits for the retrieval of usable files.

You resisted the urge let out a low whistle. 300,000 creds was already three times the amount that your original employer was going to pay you.

“So what are they?” you asked.

Locus shook his head. “Unknown. We were simply told how and where to find them, with instructions to see the files to their destination.”

"And there was this shtick about how 'encrypted files are of no use to him,'" Felix added, and you frowned, because wasn't that exactly what your employer had said as well?

“Guess that means you don’t know what they are either,” Felix sighed.

”How long will it take you to decrypt the files?” Locus questioned.

You pursed your lips, passing the question to Zeta.

‘Five.’

“Five days,” you said.

‘I meant five minutes, but sure.’

You bit back a frustrated sigh as Locus nodded in acknowledgement, considering your words. Felix’s fingered tapped out an unsteady beat on the table.

“That is an acceptable timeframe,” he said. “Now, negotiations.”

“Fifty percent,” you stated. Felix sputtered.

“What?!” he shrieked.

You turned your gaze to him, level and unflinching. “Why not?” you said. “I retrieved the files, and I’m decrypting them. The only things you did were holding my partner hostage and finding someone else who wanted them.”

Felix opened his mouth as if he had something to say, but a sharp glance from Locus- you couldn’t tell if he was actually glaring because of the that godforsaken helmet- he stopped.

“Thirty percent,” Locus offered.

“Forty five,” you demanded.

“Thirty five.”

“Forty.”

“Deal.”

You and Locus stood and shook hands. Felix was staring, slack jawed, at the both of you.

“That’s it?” he asked. “After all the shit you put us through, that’s it?”

“After all the shit I put you through,” you corrected. Zeta snickered. “Anyway, I’ll need tech to hack these. A solid CPU and somewhere quiet, preferably.”

Locus nodded in acknowledgement. “We will set up a room for you,” he said. “It will be ready soon. In the meantime-” he nodded to Felix- “he will show you around.” He promptly turned heel and left, leaving you and Felix behind.

“Well,” you said, “that was interesting.”

“I hate you.”

* * *

 

The two of you trudged down the hall.

“Barracks. You’re not allowed there,” he said, tilting his head down a corridor. “Over there leads to the bridge-” he pointed down an identical corridor- “and you're not allowed there without supervision.” He smiled for a moment. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Brig’s downstairs. I’d be happy to show you around.”

You grimaced.

“Is there anywhere I’m allowed?” you asked dryly.

“Your room. The mess hall,” Felix answered shortly. He was obviously irritated, but he hadn’t threatened you yet, or tried to personally tried to ensure you a one-way trip to the void. Perhaps the prospect of money softened him up a bit.

You hummed. “Is there a gym here?” you asked. “I want to spar.” Your muscles were a little stiff due to your unconscious stint, and although the knife wound in your shoulder still burned a little, it wasn’t so bad that you couldn’t just ignore it.

Felix scoffed. He flexed his bandaged wrist. “There’s a sparring room. This way.” He made a sharp turn that startled you a bit and you scowled.

‘ _Zeta, as soon as you get access to a computer, get a map for this godforsaken place._ ’

‘You got it, boss.’

Suddenly, the hallway opened up to a what appeared to be a computer room overlooking a cargo bay. Large open windows spanned the length of the walls, and a few people were typing away on the . You walked forward and placed your palms on the windows and squinted down. The room below you looked like a repurposed cargo hold. Mats covered the floor, and you could see a couple people sparring.

“Stairs are that way,” Felix said, jabbing a thumb to your right.

You trotted over to a nondescript doorway and peered down the stairs. Grinning a bit, you hopped down the steps, taking two at a time, until you reached the next door on the floor below. You poked your head out.

Sure enough, the two that you had seen earlier were still going at it.

One of them was a girl, maybe a few years older than you were, with thick, curly black hair and warm, dark skin. A striking scar marked the bridge of her nose, and laugh lines crinkled her eyes. She was wearing a black tank and a pair of sweatpants, similar to the ones Locus had given you. You wondered if they had belonged to her. You squinted. Her hips didn’t looks _that_ wide though.

The other was a man around the same age, his eyes sharp and hard. His hair was buzzed short, barely an inch long. He was shirtless, his broad shoulders a bulging muscles put on display, along with, you noticed, strange, x-shaped scars. Dozens of them crisscrossed along his back and chest.

You ogled for a bit, ignoring Zeta’s comment of, ‘Ew,’ and watching them trade blows, before the the girl took notice of you. She raised her hand and motioned for her partner to pause.

She smiled at you disarmingly. “What do we have here?” she asked.

You found yourself smiling back without meaning to and froze, grateful for your helmet that concealed your face.

“I’m just here to spar,” you mumbled.

The girl laughed. “Take off that power suit of yours and have a go, then.”

“Maui,” the man started, his tone cautious.

“Relax Shirogane,” the girl, Maui said, waving him off. “I doubt the bosses would let anyone particularly suspicious on board.”

‘Bosses? Plural? I guess Locus and Felix run the show,’ you pondered.

‘Can’t imagine that asshole could run anything,’ Zeta muttered.

“Anyway, newbie, up for a friendly bout?” Maui asked.

“Sure,” you answered without thinking.

‘Oh no you don't’, V. You should still be resting. Your body’s under enough stress as it is.‘

‘ _Quiet, you. I’m fine_.’

You stripped off your armor with short, clean movements and piled it neatly on a nearby bench. The last to come off was your helmet, and you shook your hair out. You hadn’t had time to tie up it up before, so it was a bit tangled and messy.

Maui let out a low whistle. “Aren’t you a cutie?” she said, eyes sparkling. You flushed a little under her praise.

Shirogane frowned, eyeing the heavy chafing on your arms. “You need your undersuit replaced.” It was more of a statement than a question, so you just nodded in agreement.

“I’ll get to it later,” you replied, gingerly massaging the angry red marks. “It’s not a big deal.”

Maui snickered and grabbed you by the hand and led you to the center of the room. “Let’s put on a show, shall we?” Her eyes flickered up- she was looking at the room above you, you realized- and you glanced up as well. You could see Felix and, to your surprise, Locus staring down at the two of you.

You grinned. “Let’s do it.”

Shirogane let out a tired sigh. “I’ll referee,” he said. “Nothing dirty,” he warned, looking straight at Maui.

“Me? Dirty? I would never,” Maui said, wide-eyed and innocent.

He rolled his eyes and put a hand up. “Start.”

Maui was fast. She nearly landed a high roundhouse that would have caught you in the throat if it had managed to take you by surprise. You skipped back to get some distance between the two of you, but she closed the gap in less time than it took to make it, and you ducked under a one-two punch and tried to sweep her feet out from under her. She dodged your kicks neatly and tried to knee you in the face while you were low on the floor.

Rather than try to rise, you rolled to the side, using the momentum to flip yourself back onto your feet.

“Nice moves,” Maui said, the same disarming smile on her face.

This time, you went offensive. You aimed low kicks to her knees and ankles to try to keep her off balance, occasionally sending sharp jabs to her shoulders and abdomen.

Breath in. One. Two. Three. Breath out. One. Two. Three. The steady rhythm of of your breathing and heart beat thrummed in your ears. You could feel Zeta’s presence purring in the back of your mind. The faint buzz of endorphins dulled the soreness in your muscles and your shoulder.

You traded glancing blows, neither of you staying still long enough to catch a breath or risk getting hit.

After several grueling minutes, you finally had an opening. Maui skid a little on a patch of sweat and had to steady herself, pausing for just a moment.

You planted a kick on her solar plexus- the first solid hit that either of you landed- and sent her stumbling back. You didn’t give her time to recover and rushed in. You wrapped your arms around her waist, bent your back, and _suplexed_ her.

Maui slapped the mat twice in submission.

You released her and hauled her up, and instead of immediately disengaging like you thought she would, Maui brought you in for a hug and clapped you on the back.

“Not bad newbie!” she laughed good-naturedly. She didn’t seem fazed by her loss at all.

Shirogane huffed in amusement. “The ending was a bit unnecessary,” he commented dryly, “but it was a good show.”

You allowed yourself to snicker a bit, rubbing at some of the bruises that were starting to form along your forearms. You settled on the bench and started the task of replacing all your armor.

“Leave it.”

You jerked up. Locus was waiting expectantly in the doorway that led to the stairs, Felix by his side.

“I will send someone to pick it up,” he said. “Your room is ready. I expect you to start working at once.”

‘Bossy much?’ Zeta buzzed disapprovingly.

Ignoring the AI, you sent a short nod to Locus and moved to clamber up the stairs when a wave a nausea made you stagger. The thrill of your spar was wearing off, and you clutched a hand to the sharp throbbing in your shoulder.

‘Oh no.’

You glanced down and your hand came away sticky and red.

“Ow,” you said dazedly, swaying slightly.

“What’s the hold up?” Felix barked from behind you.

You wiped your hand on the front of your tank, thankful for the black that hid the blood.

“Nothing,” you told him, and unsteadily tried to climb the first step.

‘Idiot!’ Zeta snapped in your mind. ‘I told you, didn’t I?’

“Shut up,” you mumbled. You could feel the blood dripping down your chest as you took the second step- or the third? You couldn’t remember.

“Get a move on,” Felix snarled. His voice sounded distorted, like you were hearing it through water.

‘V? Hey, V! Stay with me!’

Suddenly, you pitched forward, eyes rolling back, and fainted dead away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i suck at writing fight scenes yet i continue to insist on having one every other chapter.  
> things will be picking up soon maybe??? and if u want certain themes in the story in chapters to come (ie cuddles, horrendous pick up lines, straight up dirty talk, fluff themes, etc) hmu with a comment and i'll see what i can do.  
> cheers  
> and eventually i'll draw maui and shirogane and post them on my tumblr so you can see what they look like


	4. Chapter 4

“Fuck!” Felix yelped as V fell. He reached out and slipped his arms under her armpits and yanked her upright. He dragged her up the rest of the stairs and lowered her to the ground and wrenched his hands away. They came away hot and wet. “Holy shit.” The front of her shirt was soaked through with blood.

Locus was close behind, and he knelt down and tugged the strap of her tank down to expose the bloodied bandages wrapped around her shoulder. He let a sharp exhale.

“She shouldn’t have been exerting herself with an injury like this,” he said disapprovingly.

“Don’t look at me,” Felix said defensively. “I didn’t know it was that bad!”

“Aren’t you the one who stabbed her?” Locus replied drily, carefully hefting her up and nudging the door open with his foot. “I’ll take her to the medical bay to get her wound dressed.”

“Do what you want,” his partner replied flippantly.

“Hey boss!” Maui cheered, poking her head through the stairs’ doorway. “What’s- oh geez. What happened to the newbie?”

“Felix stabbed her,” Locus said shortly, and Maui whipped her head around, eyes wide, to pin her gaze on Felix, the unspoken “Just now?” written in the raise of her brows.

Felix held his hands up placatingly. “It was, like, yesterday.”

“What.”

“Maui, are you bothering- oh.” Shirogane froze and stared. “What happened?”

“Felix stabbed the newbie,” Maui said.

“ _Yesterday_!”

Locus rolled his eyes and tread out, V cradled in his arms.

* * *

 

You woke up in the med bay. Again.

“Goddammit,” you muttered. “This shit again?”

“You reopened your wound,” a deep voice rumbled, “and fainted from blood loss.”

‘What a wimp,’ Zeta commented silently.

You grimaced and sat up, gently rolling your shoulder. “Seriously?” you said, scowling.

“I rewrapped your shoulder and applied antibiotics,” Locus told you. You noticed the pile of bloodied bandages on a tray, and pristine white ones that wrapped around your shoulder and chest. You also noticed, mildly concerned, that the shirt that Locus had given and your bra were gone.

“Um,” you said. “Did you... take off my shirt?”

“Yes,” Locus answered promptly. He seemed remarkably unperturbed for someone who had just admitted to stripping you.

You stared for a few moments, and, when Locus didn’t say anything more, you responded with a subdued, “Alrighty then.”

Locus huffed and tossed you new shirt, plain black with a white UNSC logo emblazoned on the chest, and looked even larger than the last. You tugged it on, and it draped over your frame like a blanket.

“Thanks,” you said, a bit disgruntled.

“Are you fit to walk?” he asked.

You swung your legs over the bedside and pushed off, wobbling a little as you stood. “A bit fatigued,” you said, “but fine.”

Locus nodded. “We have a computer for you,” he told you. “You are expected to begin working immediately. We are on a schedule.”

You scoffed quietly, and frowned. “Where’s my stuff?” you asked.

“In your room,” he replied shortly.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “All of it?”

Locus sighed. “All of your armor is there,” he said tiredly.

You huffed. “Good,” you sniffed. After a brief pause you asked, “Is there a way I can get fitted for a new undersuit?” You gingerly rubbed the chafing along your arms and around your legs.

Locus gave you a once over- too large shirt, too baggy pants, no shoes, messy hair- and you made a face. You looked like a mess.

‘Not even a hot one,’ Zeta chimed in.

‘You little shit-’

“I’ll see to it,” Locus said, giving you a short nod. “Now follow me.”

You set off at a steady trot as Locus led you to your new home for, supposedly, the next five days.

“Here,” he said stiffly.

You poked your head through the door. It was largely barren. A cot was shoved up against the far wall, and you noticed with relief that your armor as piled neatly on top. A couple of stools sat at the foot of the bed, and to your right was a full set up. A terminal hummed quietly, and a large monitor glowed dimly on its screensaver. You squinted. It looked like... a cat?

“Unprofessional,” Locus muttered disapprovingly, a scowl evident in his voice.

“I think it looks nice,” you said. Locus glanced at you sharply, and you put on a winning smile. Locus looked decidedly unimpressed- at least it seemed like it, since he still had his creepy helmet on- and crossed his arms.

“You will be expected to start working now,” he said. “The files have been imported to the computer. You will report to either Felix or me twice a day on your progress at the bridge at ten hundred and twenty hundred hours. The mess hall serves at seven hundred, twelve hundred, and eighteen hundred hours. Your curfew will be at twenty two hundred hours.”

And with that, he turned heel and left.

“Friendly,” you muttered. And then, “I have a curfew?”

‘I’d give ‘em a D for hospitality,’ Zeta commented dryly.

You snickered and started searching the room. You checked the computer for bugs or cameras and searched under the cot for a microphone. At one point, you even put on your gauntlet to scan the whole place. Once you were satisfied that it was clean, you settled on the bed.

“Come on out, Zeta,” you called. “No bugs.”

Zeta flickered to life on the cot, lounging by your armor like a holographic cat. “So we’re stuck here?” he asked.

“Until we decrypt all this in a reasonably unsuspicious timeframe,” you replied.

You checked the time of the monitor. “Fifteen hundred hours,” you mumbled, staring at the small blinking numbers in the corner of the screen.

Zeta blinked to settle on your shoulder. “Should we start?” he asked.

You sighed. “Sure, I guess.” You dragged a stool over to the monitor and sat down, booting the computer out of standby.. You cracked your knuckles and stretched. “Let’s get to work.”

* * *

“Hey V. It’s six. You wanna go eat?”

“Hm?” you responded, frowning as you squinted at one of the minor codes. Maybe you could use a BULLRUN program to decrypt this section?

“ _V_!”

You jerked to attention at Zeta’s sharp call. “Yeah?”

Zeta huffed. “This would go a lot faster if you just let me do it,” he complained.

“It’s therapeutic,” you said. “Besides, I already said it would take five days. I’ll just do most of it, and if I can’t finish in time, you can do your thing.”

“Whatever,” he snorted. “Anyway, it’s time for you to eat. You squishy humans need sustenance and all that.”

You paused. When had been the last time you had eaten? You had been unconscious for six hours after Locus knocked you out, and then it had taken another six hours to get to the hospital with Whiskey, and god knows how long you had been out after your spar with Maui. As if in response, your stomach let out a tremendous rumble.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Food sounds good.”

“So I pulled up a map of this place and stored it, so if you need help getting anywhere, I can lead you,” Zeta said as you stood and stretched. Your body arched into a long, languid curve, and your shoulder protested the excess movement.

“Thanks buddy,” you said.

Zeta snorted. “What would you without me?” he said, blinking away as you trotted out the door. ‘Turn right, by the way. The mess left at the next intersection.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, making the turn and settling into a steady pace.

‘What do you think of them so far?’ Zeta asked.

_‘Locus and Felix? Or Shirogane and Maui?’_

‘Both.’

You huffed. ‘ _Maui seems decent. She and Shirogane look like they trust one another a lot. They’re a good pair. I think Locus and Felix trust each other about as far as they can throw one another, though. Felix is overly aggressive, but Locus is formal and by-the-book. It’s no wonder that they fight_.’

Zeta was silent for a bit. You could feel him buzzing anxiously in the back of your mind, and your blood prickled uncomfortably, dread lying heavy in your stomach. You knew what he was going to ask. ‘Don’t they remind of-’

“Don’t,” you said sharply, accidentally aloud. You shut your mouth with an audible click swallowing back your heartache. ‘He’s gone.’

‘...Sorry,’ Zeta said quietly.

You didn’t respond, continuing to the mess hall in silence.

As soon as you stepped through the doors, you heard someone call, “Hey newbie!” You blinked. Maui was waving you over to a bench, her meal laid neatly in front of her. Shirogane sat beside her, as stony-faced as the moment you met him.

You ambled to the table, smiling as Maui winked at you.

“You know, I don’t think we’ve gone through formal introductions,” she said. “The name’s Maui, and grumpy pants over there is Shirogane.”

“I’m V,” you said.

“Hm,” she replied. “I think I like newbie better.” Maui opened her mouth to say something more- probably to comment on the oddness your callsign- but was interrupted by the embarrassingly loud growling of your stomach. Her eyebrows raised in surprise, and you flushed furiously, shame-faced.

Maui laughed. “Hey Gardner!” she called to a man behind the counter. “Whip up one more plate, why don’cha?”

“It’s Mess Sergeant to you!” he yelled back. “And come and get it yourself!”

Maui turned to you and shrugged apologetically, standing to up grab the tray of food from Gardner. “Here you go!” she chirped, sliding the tray across the table to you.

It... actually looked pretty good, you noted. A piece of what looked like pork chop- or some intergalactic equivalent- sat in the middle of the plate, slathered with gravy and surrounded by corn and mashed potatoes. The corn and potatoes, you knew, were probably from MRE’s or freeze-dried packages, but the pork seemed fresh.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, picking up the fork and starting to shovel corn into your mouth.

Maui leaned on the table, resting her cheek on her hand, staring at you intently and you practically inhaled your food. “So I heard you got shanked by Felix.”

You choked on your corn. Maui seemed entirely unfazed, waiting for you to stop coughing with a placid smile.

“Um,” you said, recovering, “I guess?” You blinked. “He chucked a knife at me.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Well, I was a bit worried worried when you passed out.”

You cringed. “You saw that?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t see you pass out, per se, but I saw Locus princess-carry your unconscious body out the door.”

You stared at her blankly. “Of course you did,” you said flatly. “Wonderful.”

The mercenary laughed and clapped you on the back. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Happens to the best of us. It would take both hands to count how many times Shirogane had to drag my ass back to base, or the other way around.”

You felt slightly mollified that Maui didn’t seem to think any less of you. Despite your brief meetings, you had already decided that you liked her bright personality and easy smiles. She vaguely reminded you of Whiskey.

“Anyway, what’s the story?” Maui asked. “Most of the people Felix stabs don’t make it out alive, much less end up on our ship.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Shirogane cut in. “Maui’s too nosy for her own good.”

You waved him off. “It’s fine,” you assured him. “It’s nothing personal.” You settled down comfortably. “I was sent by a different employer to locate some files,” you said. “Felix and some others caught up to me after I secured them and was on my way to my extraction point. There was a brief conflict before the Pelican that my pilot was in was shot down, and then Locus managed to get the jump on me. Then it turned out that they needed me to decrypt everything.” You shrugged. “Now I’m here.”

Maui snorted. “A ‘brief conflict,’ huh? Now I know why Rodney and his bitch gang never came back.”

You blinked, startled. “‘Rodney and his bitch gang?’” you said questioningly.

Maui sneered. “A few so-called-mercs that Felix picked up a while back. Rodney was the ringleader of that circus. Flashy as a bag of dicks, always waving that shitty rocket launcher around. Always suspected they were space pirates, too.” She scoffed and stabbed at her meal angrily. “You did a good thing by killing those assholes.” Maui sighed then, as if all her anger had drained away in moments, and leaned back. “Anyway, I about ninety percent sure you’re leaving some particularly juicy details out, but I’ll cut you some slack.”

“Thanks,” you said dryly. “How generous.”

Maui laughed and clapped you on the back. Shirogane was still staring at you intently. You could tell that he was still a bit suspicious of you, but at least seemed to tolerate you. You didn't blame him.

“So, what, you just a freelancer?” Maui asked.

Your fork paused an inch away from your mouth and your finger twitched. “What?” you said.

“You know, a freelancer. A mercenary,” she said. She didn’t seem to notice your discomfort.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess,” you replied, . “I do some bounty hunting on the side.”

Maui hummed in acknowledgement. “Shirogane and I used to do bounty hunting work,” she explained. “That’s how we met Felix and Locus. They recruited us, said we’d get fed and a place to stay if we helped them with some jobs. That was awhile back.”

“Six years,” Shirogane said. “It’s been a long time.”

You furrowed your brows. “Do you know them well, then?” you asked.

Maui shrugged. “Not really. At least, not anything that you couldn’t figure out after spending a few weeks with them.”

“They’re private people,” Shirogane added. “Locus especially. He’s never even taken his helmet off around the crew members, or even come to the mess hall to eat. Felix does occasionally.”

Maui snorted. “Not that his company is wanted,” she said. “He’s kind of an asshole.”

You thought back to his scathing taunts and rough treatment of Whiskey. “Oh yeah,” you muttered. “I could tell.”

You scraped the remains of your dinner off the plate and licked the fork gloomily, making a mental note to try to comm Whiskey. Knowing him, he would sneak out of the hospital within a week, and you needed to contact him as soon as possible.

“Yikes. Didn’t think talking about Felix would ruin the mood that much,” Maui said, observing your sullen silence.

“What? No, sorry, it’s not that,” you blurted. “It’s just... a bit overwhelming. I mean, yesterday I got stabbed by Felix, and now I’m working for him.”

“It is a bit overwhelming at first,” Maui agreed. “But most everyone ‘round here is friendly enough. ‘Course, there’ll be some assholes that you can’t avoid, but you get used to it.”

Shirogane rolled his eyes. “Maui will stop bothering you now,” he said. “You’ll get used to her noise soon enough as well, unfortunately.” He practically picked Maui up by her collar and shepherded her away, ignoring her protests. “Welcome to the family, V.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right so i have some family issues that came up recently to work through so i might not post for a while after thi  
> sorry


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to give a brief warning about panic attacks in this chapter. i have suffered from them occasionally, but if anyone feels that i could have portrayed them more accurately, please let me know.

You slumped on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

_‘Welcome to the family.’ Voice warm and welcoming. A crooked smile, a bright-eyed, cheeky grin._

_Rattling gunfire echoing your ears. You’re screaming. You can’t remember why._

You sighed and turned onto your stomach, burying your face in the thin pillow.

“You alright, V?” Zeta asked, flickering to life at your shoulder.

“‘M fine,” you mumbled. “Just... remembering some bad stuff.

Zeta went quiet. If he hadn’t been a hologram, you would have said he was holding his breath.

“I miss them,” you said quietly. Your hands curled around the sheets.

“Yeah,” Zeta whispered. “Me too.”

You rolled out of bed, half-heartedly isolating some files to work on later, and Zeta bookmarked a dozen decade-old cat videos in an attempt to lighten your mood.

You would never say it out loud, but it worked.

You fired off an email to four of Whiskey’s five different email addresses with a brief description of your current situation and a reminder to email you back as soon as he got out of the hospital, and to not, under any circumstances, steal a ship from the hospital and try escape before he had been given the all clear, because you would know and absolutely come to kick his ass.

Two hours came and went, and before you knew it you were out the door to head out and report your progress.

You didn’t know if you preferred to see Locus or Felix. On one hand, Felix was loud, angry, and a had generally unpleasant demeanor. On the other, Locus was more than a more than a little terrifying and uncomfortable to be around.

Before you could figure it out for yourself, you were at the bridge and Locus was waiting for you.

Terrifying and uncomfortable it was.

“Report,” he said, sharp and loud but not quite a bark, hands folded neatly at the small of back, his voice firm and commanding.

You instinctively straightened and stood to attention and pointed ignored Zeta’s ‘wuh-PSSSH!’

“The decryption is on schedule,” you stated. “I haven’t run into anything too complicated yet. However, later on I might need access to some more advanced programs that this computer can’t handle. Won’t have to replace the whole thing, but a might need a new hard drive for the space.”

“Acknowledged,” Locus said. You turned to leave, but paused at Locus’ voice.

“At seven hundred hours we will be docking to refuel at a propellant depot. You can get refitted for your thermal suit there.”

You turned around, a bit surprised. You shot him a warm, genuine smile. “Thank you,” you said, and with a small grin, you turned and walked- almost flounced- back to your room.

‘Hm.’

_‘Hm what?’_

‘Nothing,’ Zeta said mildly.

\--

You flopped on your cot, limbs akimbo and the sheets thoroughly rumpled.

“Tired?” Zeta asked, flickering to life at your shoulder.

“Exhausted,” you confirmed with a massive yawn. You stretched languidly, staring at the ceiling.

_“Ah, Agent Vermont,” the Counselor greets. “It is good to see you.”_

_You’re nervous and fidgety. “Sir,” you start. “I don’t think I qualify for an AI, I’ve never made it to the leaderboards-”_

_“It is not a concern,” the Director says. “Zeta is a considerably weaker AI than any of the others. It would be more a setback to the Alphas if one of them had to take him on.”_

_“What the Director means,” the Counselor cuts in smoothly, sending a meaningful glance towards his superior, “is that Zeta is not quite up to standards for taking on the intense missions that the leading Freelancers are frequently employed for. We thought it would be more efficient to implant him with someone in a less strenuous environment, but where his skills could still be of use.”_

_Your hand raises in a crisp salute. “Thank you sir,” you say. “I won’t let you down.”_

“Do you ever regret being paired with me?” you asked.

Zeta turned. “Well, there was that one time you thought it would be a good idea try to sneak a peek at Maine in the locker room, so yeah, I have some regrets,” he said. “I still haven’t burned that image out of my head, by the way.”

You flushed. “That was _one_ time,” you said, “and you had to be curious about... _that_.”

“No,” Zeta said dryly, “it was only you.”

You let out a puff of laughter. Your smile softened. “But do you really?” you asked, turning on your side to face him, head tucked in the crook of your elbow.

Zeta sighed. “Why are you so sappy today?” he said. “Of course I never regret it. Why would I?”

You buried your face in the pillow. “I’m not good enough,” you muttered. “I let people down. First Monty, now Whiskey.”

The AI scoffed. “Whiskey isn’t dead,” he said. “He’s just not here right now, and you have a job to do, so you can surprise him by throwing stacks of money at his face as soon as he steps out of that hospital.” A pause. “And you didn’t let Monty down. He wouldn’t have wanted you to think that.”

You exhaled softly. “G’night, Zeta.”

“Night, V.”

\--

_Monty at your side and Whiskey in the cockpit, their chatter filling your comms with noise as you mechanically go over your weapons._

_Monty leaping through the door into the open sky, you at his heels, flicking a casual salute at you as you fall-_

_Bad intel, had to send in the big guns. Too much for rookies like you. You hear the crack of a sniper rifle._

_Monty’s shattered visor staring at you as you clutch his hand and weep, gunfire rattling around you-_

A sharp rap on your door startled you into wakefulness.

“Wakey wakey asshole!” Felix’s voice rang sharply in the room, despite the muffling the door provided. “We’re docking in an hour! Get your ass out here!”

You jerked to attention, hand grasping for a gun that wasn’t there and heart hammering in your chest.

‘V, calm down,’ Zeta hummed. ‘You’re okay. You’re safe.’

You sat up, taking huge, heaving breaths as you tried to get your heart rate under control. Whiskey wasn’t there to comfort you, only Zeta’s soft, murmured reassurances in the back of your mind.

The pounding at your door returned, louder and harsher than before. “Jesus Christ, hurry up!” Felix shouted.

“I-I’m up,” you said, but your voice stuck in your throat and all that came out was a hoarse whisper. You swallowed thickly. “I’m up,” you tried again, the words coming more clearly. “I’ll- I’ll meet you guys at the hangars later. Just... give me a minute.”

There was a moment of quiet before you could hear the familiar sound of the heavy clanking of armored footsteps fading away as Felix walked away.

‘...That went better than I expected,’ Zeta chirped, and you huffed with laughter. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes. You were so tired.

“V? C’mon, snap out of it. Stay with me.” Zeta blinked to life, voice clear in your ears instead of in your mind.

“Don’t worry, Zeta,” you said. “I’m fine. Just...”

“An off day?” Zeta said.

You nodded. “Yeah. An off day.”

Zeta sighed. “Up you go. You should go wash up. Locker rooms and showers are to your right.”

You blinked slowly, still a little hazy. “Okay,” you agreed placidly, and Zeta winked out of sight, reducing himself to a concerned buzz in the peripherals of your attention.

You ran your fingers through your hair- tangled, dirty, and pretty gross- and glanced down at the too-large shirt that Locus had given you, and then at the armor piled at the foot of the bed.

You sighed and trotted out the door. You really did need a shower.

When you finally got there, you weren’t alone. Steam filled the room and the steady drum of water on the floor echoed in your ears.

There were some clean towels folded neatly on one of the benches, and you grabbed one before you slipped into one of the stalls and stripped, hanging your clothes over the partition. You unwrapped the bandages from your upper body, and rolled them up- mostly clean- you noted, other than a smudge of dried blood on a couple layers- and set them aside to use again. You turned the water as hot as it would go. It scalded your skin fiercely, but you barely felt it. It took some gentle prodding from Zeta until you lowered the temperature.

There was a cheap dispenser installed in one of the walls, and you pumped some soap into your hands, rubbing into it foamed and lathered it in your hair. You scrubbed until you felt some semblance of cleanliness.

The water shut off with a sputter, and you squeezed the water out of your hair and wrapped the towel around your body, grabbed your clothes off the stall wall, and walked out.

Someone was in the locker rooms, mostly naked and, you noticed, decidedly male.

‘I didn’t lead you to the wrong room,’ Zeta said, anticipating your question. ‘They’re co-ed.’

You blinked. Squinted. Was that-?

The figure tilted his head and _oh_ that was Felix.

He was kind of skinny, you noted, all slender, lean muscle and long limbs, sharp cheekbones and narrow jaw. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and he ran a hand through it, slicking it off of his face.

“Oh,” he said. “It’s you.”

He was leering, but not in a ‘ _damn I wanna pin you against a wall and make out with you_ ’ way, but more of a ‘ _if it had not been for the laws of this land I would have slaughtered you_ ’ way. Oddly enough, that was mildly reassuring in its own right. Nice to know you wouldn’t have to deal with sexual harassment in the workplace.

You blinked tiredly and walked around him to the next aisle. If Felix was bothered by your odd silence, he didn’t show it, instead filling the empty space with talk.

“The asshole that hired us is some political bigshot,” he said, uncharacteristically conversational. “Files are apparently from some other company that his rival heads. Fuck that political bullshit.”

You heard shuffling noises as Felix dressed in his undersuit, the tug of a zipper, the whisper of synthetic cloth. The noises were... familiar. They reminded you of sleepy mornings before training, bumping shoulders and knocking elbows with your partners in the locker room.

Felix continued to talk and you half-listened as you rewrapped your bandages and dressed in your oversized, borrowed clothes. Something about files containing something about a financial scandal. Maybe. You concentrated more on the clattering of his armor than his voice. You noted dully that you needed new underwear. And probably restock your military chems, since you were running low. You hadn't refilled in... how long? How many months, years-

Your breath came out in shallow, gasping wheezes. Your hands were shaking and your heart stuttered in your chest and you couldn’t _breathe_ -

“Hey. You done-” Felix said crossly. Froze. He saw you, staring blankly at the wall, wide-eyed and hyperventilating as you trembled.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He closed the distance between the two of you in a few quick, long strides. “Okay,” he said. “You need to sit down.”

You vaguely heard him, not really understanding, until he put one hand on your shoulder and gently pushed down. “Sit,” he said, voice low and calm.

You sat.

“V, can you hear me?” he asked.

You opened your mouth, but your voice caught in your throat.

“Just nod,” he said. “Don’t talk.”

You nodded weakly.

“Okay, V,” Felix said. “I need you to breathe. Deep breaths. C’mon.” He watched you take a large, shuddering breath. “Good job,” he told you. “Just keep breathing. You’re fine.”

In. Out. In. Out. You did nothing but breathe.

Eventually, your breathing levelled off and your heart settled its pace and you didn’t feel like someone had tossed you out of the airlock and left you in space.

Felix was sitting beside you, you finally noticed, decked out in full armor, not touching but near.

“We dock in twenty minutes,” he said, standing. “You should grab something from the mess hall before we go.”

And then he was gone.

You took a couple more calming breaths.

‘V?’ Zeta said, quiet and uneasy. ‘Can you hear me?’

‘ _Yeah_ ,’ you responded. _‘’M sorry, Zeta.’_

‘I was worried,’ he said. ‘You couldn’t hear me during... it. I was trying to talk to you but you couldn’t hear me.’

‘ _I can hear you now,_ ’ you reassured him. ‘ _Don’t worry. It’s just an-_ ’

‘Off day,’ Zeta finished. He paused. ‘I didn’t expect Felix to help,’ he said. ‘That was... weird.’

‘ _Me neither.’_ you replied. _‘Dunno why. Best not to ask.’_

Zeta hummed in agreement.

You stood up shakily. Your hands were clammy.

‘Go get something to eat,’ Zeta suggested. ‘Your blood sugars low.’

You nodded absently. Food. That was something you could get behind.

The mess hall was relatively quiet. You assumed most of crew members were preparing to disembark.

You spotted Shirogane, but, surprisingly enough, not Maui.

He caught your eye for a moment, nodding at you in acknowledgment, before turning his attention back to his breakfast. There was a small pile of documents at his elbow that he occasionally flipped through. Manifestos maybe?

You ambled to the counter and grabbed a bag of cereal with various freeze-dried fruits sprinkled in it. You tore open the vacuum sealed packaging with your teeth and ate by hand, not bothering to pour it out into another bowl, making you way out of the mess hall as you munched.

You bumped into Maui as you exited.

“Oh!” she chirped. “Hey newbie!” She paused to study you. “Are you okay? You don’t look so hot.”

“I’m fine,” you said, mustering up a half-hearted smile for her. “Just tired, s’all.”

She eyed you dubiously. “If you say so,” she said. “Oh, by the way, Shirogane and I are gonna head off the ship for some R ‘n R. Locus gave us twenty-four hours of shore leave. You wanna come with?”

You shook your head. “I have some plans already,” you said. New undersuit, and then you’d probably get some work done. Try to avoid Felix, too.

Maui pouted. “You’re no fun,” she complained. You watched as she skipped over to Shirogane, leaning on the table to talk to him. Shirogane smiled, and Maui sat down next to him, using him as a backrest as she continued to chatter.

You ignored the pang of bitter nostalgia and trudged to the hangar, shoving the empty cereal bag into the pocket of your sweats.

With some relief, you found that Felix wasn’t waiting for you. Locus, on the other hand, was. He was suited up in full armor, like he was off to battle instead of a fuel depot.

Locus tilted his head towards one of the shuttles. “Get in,” he said, wasting no time on formalities.

You did as you were told, weary and compliant, and you hopped into one of the shuttles. Locus followed you, his boots pounding heavily on the floor.

The shuttle door closed.

It was just the two of you.

Locus sighed. “Felix informed me that you had a breakdown earlier,” he said flatly.

You stiffened. “I can assure you, it won’t impair my work,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I did not say it would,” Locus replied. “But it is a situation that needs to be addressed.”

“There is nothing to address,” you spat back, defensive. You didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t need to talk about it.

‘V, you should listen to him-’ Zeta started.

“I beg to differ-”

You stood up. “There is nothing to talk about,” you said slowly, jaw clenched.

‘V, you need to calm down,’ Zeta said. Your hands curled into fists. ‘V, _calm down-_ ’

“Shut up Zeta!” you barked. You immediately realized your mistake, clapping your hand over your mouth.

‘ _Shit_.’

“Who,” Locus asked slowly, deliberately, “is Zeta?”

“It’s none of your concern,” you snapped, thinking _shit fuck what were you going to do_?!

“On the contrary,” Locus said, “I do believe it is my concern. If your panic attacks are going far enough that you are hallucinating-”

“It’s not because of the panic attacks,” you snarled. Suddenly, you deflated, hands relaxing and head drooping. You slumped back down in your seat. “Just drop it,” you said tiredly. “I’m willing to explain, but... not now. Give me a bit.”

The shuttle rumbled to a stop and you stepped out without a word.

You flagged down an attendant and asked where the armory was, and took off, purposefully not glancing behind at Locus, who you knew was following close behind.

The armory was in sight, large, hole in the wall, shop-like building with a glass front. You could see a few people milling around inside.

You froze. _Fuck_ you didn’t have any money stupid stupid _stupid_.

“What?” Locus asked.

“Money,” you grumbled. “I don’t have any. This was a waste of time.”

Locus put a hand on your shoulder as you turned to walk away.

“You will pay me back in full,” he said stoically, and walked into the armory.

You stared at his retreating back for a few solid moments. First Felix helped you through a panic attack, and now Locus was paying for your stuff after after straight up dropping a sensitive conversation topic.

“What the fuck is going on here?” you asked. A soldier passing by clapped you on the back. You recognized his armor as the set that most of the Locus and Felix’s crewmembers wore.

“Who knows?” he said cheerfully, and walked away.

You jogged to catch up with Locus, and you spotted him at the counter talking to the man at the cashier, catching the tail end of the conversation,

“-for my companion,” you heard him say.

The clerk perked up as you walked in.

“Ah,” he said pleasantly. “Is this her?”

Locus glanced at you and tilted his head in acknowledgement.

The clerk clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! This way please!”

You briefly wondered what such a bubbly man was doing working in an armory in a fueling depot.

Then you remembered Florida.

You squinted at the man dubiously. He was giving you the sunniest smile you had ever seen on a human being since you and a couple other Beta-lancers introduced Agent Washington to cat cafes and his teeth were so damn white.

'He's shady,' Zeta said, only half-joking, and you were inclined to agree.

The clerk was still smiling at you expectantly, and you grimaced, walking to his side. The man- you caught a glimpse of his name tag- Mikhail- led you to another room. Folded suits and racks of armor lay neatly on counters and walls. There was a particularly nice set of Mark II armor that caught your eye, and you stared at it for a moment before wrenching your attention back to the clerk.

Mikhail was unwinding a length of measuring tape.

“Do you mind taking off your shirt?” he asked.

You thought about the layers of gauze covering your chest. “I would prefer to keep in on,” you said.

Mikhail seemed entirely unfazed. “Of course, of course,” he said cheerily. “Lift up you arms please.”

You complied with his instructions as he took various measurements. After about a minute you broke the silence.

“Uh,” you began hesitantly, “do you also sell... underwear here?”

“We do,” the clerk replied, pausing his work to flash you another brilliant smile. “I can grab some from the back later if you’d like. Your sizes?”

You awkwardly rattled off your sizes and the sound of shifting armor behind made you freeze.

You tilted your head. Locus was still waiting for you, decidedly in ear shot, and for fucks sake you had basically just told him the measurements of your breast and ass.

‘That’s embarrassing,’ Zeta said, completely unnecessarily.

_‘I hate you.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like locus and felix would at least be slightly sympathetic towards soldiers who experience panic attacks, thus the slightly ooc felix.  
> also i might not update regularly (not that i ever have) because my life has been a shit storm of late- between school, being a non-white, non-straight female during the presidential elections, and me coming out to my parents, i've been under a lot of stress. sorry about that  
> on the bright side this story has hit 100 kudos?? thank you all so much for your support. i'm sorry i don't update this more regularly


	6. Chapter 6

You strode out of the shop with two bags in hand, one with your undersuit and the other with your under-not-suit, doing your absolute goddamn best not to look Locus in the eye as he matched your stride to walk next to you.

You were ninety-five percent sure it was just your imagination- or Zeta- that was causing you to sense his gaze on you, despite the fact his helmet was pointed straight ahead.

Zeta laughed and you sent a silent ‘fuck you’ his way, just because, and kept walking, willing your eyes not to stray towards Locus’ massive form as you made your way back to the ship.

Just as the ship came into sight- a light frigate, a bit smaller than the Mother of Invention had been- Locus put a heavy, gloved hand on your shoulder. You glanced at him sharply, tensing, but not flinching.

“The rest of the crew have twenty four hours shore leave,” Locus said, removing his hand. You let out the breath that you didn’t didn’t even realize you had been holding. “You are... welcome to join as well,” he continued. “Although you are not a member of the crew, you are working under us for now, and are thus entitled to... benefits.” His words were a little awkward, as if he wasn’t used to talking to people if he wasn’t ordering them (the crew) or telling them to shut up (Felix).

You stared at him owlishly, mind racing.

‘ _Benefits_ ,’ Zeta snickered. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. ‘Okay, okay,’ he amended. ‘In all seriousness, you need a break. Not just from... this. You’ve been working nonstop for months, and you’re suffering for it. Twenty four hours won’t hurt.’

You blinked. “...Okay,” you said, realizing you’d been standing still and quiet for an odd amount of time. “I- uh- I’ll do that. Thank you,” you added as an afterthought.

Locus nodded stiffly and turned away, walking- marching, almost- towards the bay, where he inevitably had duties to perform.

You watched his retreating back for a few moments, head tilted, until Locus flagged down a dock worker and started talking.

‘ _You think he did that because of my... episode?_ ’ you asked Zeta.

Zeta let out a little buzz of uncertainty. ‘Who knows,’ he replied. ‘These people are fucking weird.’

You shifted your bags to hang over your arm as you searched your pockets. You had some spare credit bills in your pocket of your sweats from when Locus had given you money to pay for your stuff.

Wandering over to a directory, you squinted at the ‘You Are Here’ marker the bright cyan glow of the holo map straining your eyes. It looked like there was a food court nearby- good thing too, as the bag of dry cereal you had eaten on the ship did little to stave off your growing hunger. On cue, your stomach growled, and, mind made up, you ambled off, raising your hands above your head in a languid stretch, bags jostling against your side as they slid up your arm.

The food court was relatively busy, bustling with civilians and soldiers alike. You spotted a few of Locus’ crewmembers, still in full armor, conversing with what you assumed were other members, dressed in civvies.

“Hey, V!” You blinked, startled, as Maui’s face suddenly invaded your field of vision. “Thought you had plans,” she ribbed goodnaturedly.

You shrugged. “Locus told me to take some shore leave,” you explained.

Maui’s eyebrows raised and she opened her mouth to say something- maybe to comment on your still-disheveled appearance- when she was interrupted by a rather harried-looking Shirogane, who had been following a few paces behind her.

“Maui, slow down- oh thank god, you stopped,” he said.

Maui turned around and stuck her tongue out. “You’re too slow,” she complained, casually slinging an arm around you shoulders. “I’ve found a new best friend.” Maui caught your eye for a brief moment and smiled. You gave her a tiny smile in return. Her hold on you was gentle and unrestricting, and you willingly relaxed into her touch.

Shirogane huffed. “Stop harassing her and get back here,” he said, exasperated.

Maui let out a long-suffering sigh and retracted her arm.

“You getting something to eat?” she asked. You nodded, and she grinned. “Great! I know a couple places around here that are hundreds of times better than the stuff Gardner makes.”

You laughed in response, hooking your arm through hers as the two of you strolled along the pathway, Shirogane taking his place at Maui’s other side.

“You settling down alright?” Maui asked, guiding you towards a tiny cafe in the corner of the court.

You thought about your panic attack that morning. “...I’m doing fine,” you said.

“Good, good,” Maui said cheerfully. “Now, sit your ass down over here-” she plopped you down at a table- “and I will order us the best goddamn paninis you’ve have ever tasted in your entire life.”

You laughed again as she flounced off, Shirogane tiredly settling into the chair next to you.

He leaned back, crossing his arms and stretching out his long legs, tilting his head as he eyed you critically.

You semi-ignored him, pretending to busy yourself with organizing your bags to avoid meeting his gaze.

“Maui likes you,” he said, after a minute of tense silence. You looked up, surprised. “She’s usually a good judge of character,” he continued, “but I don’t trust you.”

‘Well,’ Zeta commented, ‘at least he’s honest about it.’

“There were six people on that retrieval mission,” said. “Six. Including Locus and Felix. Felix came back with a broken wrist and four didn’t even come back at all. Despite all the shit Maui talked about Rodney and his... gang, they were competent. I doubt that an average mercenary- or even a well trained soldier- would be able to do so much damage.” He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes and resting his elbows on the table. “You are hiding something.”

You met his gaze levelly. “What’s your point?” you asked. “My past doesn’t mean anything. I’m just here to get a job done.”

Maui chose that moment to reappear, holding a small, numbered placard.

“Hope you two are playing nice,” she said, blissfully ignorant of you and Shirogane’s staredown. She pulled a chair from the table next to yours and straddled it backwards, arms resting on the back.

Shirogane let out a noncommittal hum and leaned back in his seat.

You shrugged with equal reserve and said, “He’s not much of a conversationalist.”

‘Well, that’s not exactly a _lie_.’

Maui snorted with laughter. “Give him time,” she said, reaching over to clap you on the back.

“Sure,” you replied, not letting any of your wariness creep into your voice even as you eyed the man in question cautiously.

Even though you initially felt stiff and awkward, you found yourself relaxing more and more as Maui engaged you in small talk. Despite Shirogane’s clearly stated distrust, it seemed that those reservations didn’t extend to chatting, though it might have been more for Maui’s sake than any cordiality towards you.

The waiter came and went, and Maui immediately abandoned the conversation in favor of digging into a massive panini, sauce dripped off the sides of the golden brown bread. Shirogane quickly followed suit, and, after a moment of deliberation, so did you.

The crisp, toasted baguette crunched as you bit into it, melted cheese sticking to your mouth and accompanying the savory taste of roasted beef.

“Oh my god,” you said, awestruck. “This is _amazing_.”

“I know, right?” Maui said around a mouthful of bread. She swallowed. “I told you! Best paninis you’ve ever tasted.”

You nodded fervently and dove back into your meal, your ravenous hunger, which had been dampened by your anxiety around Shirogane, rearing its head once again.

You cleaned off your plate in a couple minutes- an impressive feat considering the size of the sandwich, and you wistfully savored the last few bites as you finished.

You sat on your hands for a few more minutes as Maui and Shirogane finished off their own meals.

Maui laid down a generous tip as she wiped off some crumbs off her mouth with a her thumb, letting out a long, satisfied sigh. “Good stuff,” she hummed appreciatively.

Shirogane replied with a noncommittal but content grunt, stretching out his long limbs like a lazy cat.

Maui stood, dusting off the last of the crumbs off her clothes- a solid black tank top and sweats- and turned to you. “Shirogane and I are gonna head to the armory to check out some new gear,” she said. “Wanna come?”

You held out your bags. “Thank you, but I already went,” you said.

She sighed with exaggerated disappointment. “Suit yourself,” she bemoaned dramatically. She perked up abruptly. “Actually,” she said, “there’s a book store on the port side. I think you’d like it.”

“A book store?” you echoed.

“Yeah, with, like, real books,” she said, an excited gleam in her eye. “Paper and everything, not those holos or e-books you read on the ‘net.”

“I’ll check it out,” you said thoughtfully.

Maui winked, hooked an arm through Shirogane’s, and waved goodbye before the pair of them turned and weaved their way through the crowd.

‘So, bookstore?’ Zeta asked.

You shrugged. ‘Why not?’ you replied, setting off at a trot. ‘We’ve got nothing better to do.’

You glanced at the directory as you passed it, making sure you were headed the right way, before ambling in the general direction of portside.

You wandered along the edge of the crowd, ducking around smaller stores. The thing you hated about these civilian docking stations, you thought, was the number of people. Big crowds made you uncomfortable- the small, closely knit teams of Project Freelancer did little to alleviate it.

Lost in thought, your feet carried you to your destination. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of the tiniest shop you had ever seen, There was one small window next to the door, and when you looked through you could see the warm, homey lighting on the inside, a stark contrast from the bright fluorescents that lined the halls of the port station.

With only a brief hesitation, you stepped through, sighing with relief as the lights softened and your eyes adjusted.

It was quiet, blissfully so, and you wandered between cramped bookshelves stocked with old leather tomes- ancient things, with wrinkled spines and yellowed pages. You could barely remember the last time you’d seen a book, a real book- probably back on Earth, when you were still a little kid, ages before your enlistment.

Your fingers brushed along a familiar title- _Monty Python’s Big Red Book_ \- a bittersweet smile crinkling the corners of your eyes. This one you remembered.

“The fuck are _you_ doing here?” a cross voice asked, startling you out of your reverie. You jerked around, alarmed, and met Felix’s irritated gaze. He was barely an arm’s length away, fully armored with his helmet tucked under his arm and hair in disarray.

“I could say the same for you,” you replied warily.

Felix didn’t respond to that, crossing his arms petulantly and turning his stare to the shelves. He zeroed in on the book you were holding.

“Monty Python?” he said dryly. “Really?”

“It’s a classic!” you said defensively. “Better jokes than what you could come up with.”

He snorted, running his hands through his hair. He did that a lot, you noticed. The motion was distracting, leading your eyes down his slender arms and the pleasant curve of his body as he stretched.

An asshole, you admitted, but a good looking asshole.

You pursed your lips and looked down at the cover, the cover worn and faded with age. Your fingers itched with the urge to thumb through the pages, the scent of old papers and leather comforting you like an old friend and filling you with nostalgia.

Even ignoring him as you were, it was easy to feel Felix’s level stare at you. You withheld a grimace. The fact that he had seen you during a panic attack sat low and heavy in your stomach and filled you with dread. Felix was aggressive and quick tempered, and, little as you knew him, you didn’t think it would be beyond him to mock you for it.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, “you gonna buy the stupid thing or what?”

You blinked, surprised. “Uh,” you said intelligently, shifting the book and your bags to one hand to search your pockets for Locus’ money. “I think I have some creds on me? Maybe?” You checked the sticker on the back of the book and counted out the change. Barely enough.

Felix scoffed and turned away. You stared dumbly at his back, rooted to the ground until he turned back around with an exasperated glare. “C’mon!” he snapped. “You stupid or what?”

“How do I know you’re not leading me to the back room to murder me?” you shot back, only half joking, even as you took quick strides to walk behind him.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll at least keep you alive until I get my paycheck.”

‘That’s reassuring,’ Zeta commented. You could picture his holographic form in your mind, arms crossed and scowling behind his visor.

You followed Felix towards the back of the store, which did to alleviate your suspicions of your imminent death,

When the two of you reached the end of the store, you felt a bit relieved to see nothing but nondescript cashier in the back corner.

‘We live to see another day,’ Zeta said, and you allowed a small grin to pull at the corners of your mouth.

Felix tilted his head to eye you with consternation. “Well?” he asked. “You gonna go or what?”

You raised your eyebrows at his impatience and moved to the register, paying hastily and thanking the cashier when you were done.

‘Always be nice to retail workers,’ Zeta said with sage-like solemnness.

‘ _Amen_.’

Felix was already walking out the door when you caught up to him, and you felt mildly disappointed that you didn’t stay longer. On the other hand, it seemed like Felix wanted you to follow him, but if he told you to fuck off, you supposed you could just come back.

“Are we going somewhere?” you asked, following two steps behind.

“Yep.”

“You gonna tell me?”

“Maybe if you ask nicely.”

You scoffed. “Fuck you,” you said instead, and Felix turned to you, a crooked, teeth-baring smile wide on his mouth,

“Is that an invitation?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You let out a snort of laughter, despite your effort to keep a straight face. “ _Christ_ , no,” you snickered. “I have standards.”

Felix huffed dramatically. “I’ll have you know,” he said, “that I am a great lay.”

Another laugh threatened to bubble out, but you held it back with a resounding display of willpower. “Who told you that?” you taunted. “Your mom?”

His smile slipped into a mock-scowl and the two of you continued to bicker, trading insults and jeers with ease.

Felix was... surprisingly easy to get along with, you thought- as long as he wasn’t stabbing you or holding your friend as a hostage.

As the two of you walked, you noticed that every now and then Felix would cautiously roll his splinted wrist, gritting his teeth against the pain.

“Is it bothering you?” you asked without thinking. “Uh- your wrist,” you clarified once Felix shot you a confused look. “I- um- I’m sorry. For breaking it.”

‘Smooth.’

He shrugged, eyeing you skeptically. “It’s fine,” he replied. “Doc said it was just a clean break. Not like _you_ could do much damage.”

You thought back to how you very nearly killed Felix during your skirmish.

‘Sure buddy,’ Zeta said mildly. ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night.’

You suppressed a smile at the silent comment and wisely chose not to reply to Felix’s. You had fallen into comfortable banter with him, and it would be a shame to ruin that because his ego bruised easily.

You nearly ran into when Felix when he suddenly stopped in front of a store. You squinted at the windows. A clothing store?

“Uh,” you said. “Why are we here?”

“Have you seen yourself?” Felix said incredulously. “You look like shit.”

You glanced down at yourself, with your baggy sweatpants and massively oversized shirt.

‘He’s right,’ Zeta chirped.

“Besides,” Felix continued, “Locus is gonna get pretty sick of lending you his clothes soon enough.”

You blinked. “Locus...?” you said slowly. Well, you thought, it would explain the shirt.

‘I didn’t think his hips were that... _wide_ ,” Zeta commented. You nearly snorted, but masked it as a choked cough.

“I don’t have money,” you said, trying to avoid thinking of Locus or his hips or his clothes, or apparent lack thereof thanks to you.

Felix waved you off. “I’ll cover it,” he said. “Just pay me back later. Plus,” he added, a bit unnecessarily, “you’re a pain to look at like this. I’m doing the whole ship a favor.”

You rolled your eyes. You were starting to see a trend. At this rate, all your pay was just going to go back to those two.

“Thanks,” you said.

Felix bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile. “Don’t thank me yet,” he grinned. “I charge interest.”

You huffed, amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Of course you do.”

You didn’t waste time after you went into the store, grabbing a couple of tank tops and sweats, like what you had seen Maui wearing when the two of you had been sparring. They were light and simple and mercifully cheap, and you were halfway to the register when something caught your eye.

It was a dress, navy blue and strapless that looked like it would stop above your knees. A gold and white floral print danced across the skirt, and a thin leather belt cinched the waist. It was cute, you thought wistfully. It had been a hell of a long time since you had time to wear something like that.

“You done?” Felix called, leaning by the counter.

“Uh- yeah,” you said, sending one last longing glance at the dress.

Later, you told yourself, after you finished this job and were sitting on a fat stack of cash, you’d let yourself splurge.

You sighed, glancing up at Felix from under your lashes. If you made it out of this job in one piece, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay for this chapter, and thank you for all your patience! that being said, its still pretty stressful for me, so i don't think chapters are going to come out any more frequently.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weights are lifted, v shows off her sick gains, and locus is personally offended by the lack of a spotter.

You walked out the store with another bag to join the others, the paper crinkling merrily at your side and book tucked neatly under your arm.

Felix followed you out, swinging his helmet and rolling his neck.

“Well,” he said, “I’m out. See ya.” He walked off with a flippant wave,

You blinked. “Bye,” you said, “And- uh- thanks.”

He tilted his head back a bit, and you could see the corner of his mouth curl into a grin before he was out of sight.

You let out a little huff of laughter.

‘ _Maybe he’s an alright guy_ ,’ you thought.

Zeta snorted. ‘Not likely.’ He paused. ‘Wanna go back to the bookstore?’

You considered it for a few moments, rocking back and forth on your heels. ‘ _Nah_ ,’ you replied. ‘I _got enough shit to carry. Might as well head back to the ship and sleep or something._ ’

Which, actually, was an entirely legitimate idea. After your breakdown that morning, combined with Shirogane’s interrogation and your traipsing across the station, you were left both physically and mentally fatigued.

You brought your arms up in a stretch and yawned, exhaustion prickling at your heels. A nap didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

* * *

One long trek back back to the ship later (you saw its name, finally; it was a light frigate, maybe two-thirds the size of the Mother of Invention, with the words ‘SS ANDROMEDA’ painted along the side), you were basically ready to hit the hay.

You passed the guard at the ship’s entrance with no hassle, much to your relief, and b-lined to your quarters, dropping your bags on the floor and flopping down on the bed as soon as the doors swished shut behind you.

Zeta flickered to life by your bed, floating above your meticulously stacked armor. “You got twenty two hours of shore leave left,” he told you.

You hummed sleepily in acknowledgement. “Wake in up in, like, three hours, ‘kay?” you mumbled, burrowing under the thin, military standard sheets.

“Sure. Sleep tight V.”

* * *

Zeta woke you with a gentle but insistent hum.

You groggily blinked awake, bleary-eyed and drowsy.

“Time?” you asked, yawning.

“Eleven-hundred hours,” Zeta reported, his holographic form materializing by your side.

You yawned again, reluctantly leaving the warmth of your covers and stretching.

You swung your feet off the bed and stood, arching your back with your feet firmly planted on the ground.

“Any dreams?” Zeta asked, hovering over your pillow.

“Mm. No,” you replied. “Nice and peaceful, for once.” You reached down and rifled through your bags, pulling out the fresh, blessedly clean underwear and a shirt and a pair of pants that actually fit.

You stripped off your shirt and paused, fingers ghosting over the bandages that wrapped around your chest. You gingerly reached back and undid the knot, pulling away the multiple layers. The gauze came away mostly clean, with only a few rust colored flecks as proof of your injury. Said injury was completely scabbed over and half-healed, thanks to whatever care Locus had given you while you were unconscious.

You cautiously tested the range of motion of your shoulder, pushing your chest out and rolling your shoulders, sighing with relief when you only felt the barest hint of pain. It looked like you wouldn’t be bleeding out anytime soon.

“Don’t push it,” Zeta warned, crossing his arms and sniffing irritably. “If you faint like a wuss on me again then all I’ll have to say is ‘I told you so.’”

You let out a little huff of laughter and dressed, rolling up the bandages neatly and setting them on the desk.

Changing into your new clothes, you searched your armor for the small, secret compartment the held a (supposedly infinite, Whiskey had said once,) supply of hairbands. You snapped one onto your wrist and tied your hair back with another, pulling it into a high, loose bun.

Then. you realized with sudden clarity, that you had yet to obtain socks or shoes. You sighed. “Son of a bitch,” you muttered.

You scrounged around your room for a while, checking the dingy closet and unearthing a pair of socks that looked to be made for feet that were significantly larger than yours. But they looked clean and didn’t seem to have accumulated any mothballs or anything of the like, so you tugged them on with a sigh of resignation.

You glanced at your armor. You _could_ wear your boots, but it would be clunky and entirely unnecessary for what you planned on doing.

“Directions to the gym, please,” you told Zeta, hearing the whoosh of the doors swishing shut behind you.

‘What did I just say, like, five seconds ago,’ Zeta said petulantly, flickering out of sight. ‘I said don’t push it.’

‘ _Relax_ ,’ you thought. ‘ _I’m just going to lift weights, not spar._ ’

You inclined your head at a passing crewmember- an engineer, judging by the her oil-stained suit and heavy gloves- and you were pleasantly surprised when she smiled back.

‘...Fine,’ Zeta said. You could practically hear him pout. ‘Next left, take the elevator to the third level, second room to the right, and I’m serious about the whole ‘told you so’ thing.’

The AI retreated to the back of your mind to sulk and you snickered inwardly. Zeta could be childish sometimes.

‘Heard that.’

You laughed again, audible, and found the elevator. There was a bright, cheery ding as you pressed the button and the doors opened.

You blinked, surprised when you saw Locus standing in it, fully armored and a datapad in his hand.

He glanced up.

You tilted your head in acknowledgement. “Yo.”

“...You are on shore leave,” he said slowly, sounding a bit off-put.

You shrugged. “Did everything I wanted to already.”

You could practically feel his frown. “Where are you going?”

“Weight room,” you replied. “Don’t wanna slack off.”

You sidled into the elevator next to him, and his judgemental stare bore down heavy on your back.

“You don’t have a spotter,” he said disapprovingly. Oh yeah. You could definitely feel him frowning.

‘Yeah, V, you don’t have a _spotter_ ,’ Zeta piped up in your mind. ‘So this is a _bad idea._ ’

You shrugged again. “I can handle myself,” you said, replying to both of them. The button to the second level was lit up, you noticed absentmindedly, pressing hitting the button to the third and leaning against the wall.

Locus fixed you with a glare that chilled you through his visor. He seemed… scandalized. Or personally offended or something because he seemed so insulted that you dared attempt to lift weights without a spotter.

The elevator dinged as it hit the second floor and the doors slid open with a mechanical whoosh. You waited for Locus to get out.

He didn’t.

“Uh,” you said as the doors shut. Locus remained unmoving.

“I will be your spotter,” he told you plainly.

You thought about arguing with him for a second and decided it would be too much effort. “Sure,” you said instead.

When the doors opened again you trotted out, peering down the hallway and counting the doors.

Locus followed close behind, cocking his head to the side when you opened the door to the weight room.

“You seem familiar with the layout of our ship,” he said. He stated it as a simple observation, but there was something accusatory in his tone.

“Downloaded the blueprint off the mainframe,” you replied flippantly. Which wasn’t a _lie_ , it was just that _Zeta_ had done the downloading. “You should secure those better, by the way.”

Locus looked down at you and huffed, pushing past you into the room. He crossed his arms and stood by the one of the several benches.

“You came here to lift,” he said brusquely, “so lift.”

You raised your eyebrows at his gruffness and walked over to the rack that leaned against the wall. Rolls of gauze, towels, and blocks of gym chalk lined the shelves. You grabbed and small towel and hung it around your neck, and squinted thoughtfully at the chalk and bandages.

You grabbed the block of chalk- it read “magnesium carbonate” along the side- and coated your palms and fingers thoroughly with the stuff. What your chemistry class hadn’t taught you it was that it was apparently safe to rub laxatives all over your hands. The powder stuck to the heavy callouses that lined your hands and you rubbed your fingers together, satisfied by the friction.

The air of disapproval coming from Locus seemed to intensify threefold- probably imagining the mess you were about to make. You smiled sunnily at him in response, picking your way over to the bars and weights. You opted for a mid-sized bar that fit comfortably in your hands and picked out half a dozen twenty pound weights.

You hauled your items of choice over to the bench where Locus was waiting somewhat impatiently.

You laid the bar across the bench and slid four of the weights onto the ends before settling onto the bench and sliding under the barbells.

“Ready,” you told the man towering over you.

Locus nodded once and you started your set. Ten reps at first, then twenty, to test out your shoulder. The load was relatively light compared to your normal routine, so you only did a few more before you asked Locus to add the other weights to the barbell.

Several minutes in, when you started to feel the welcome burn in your muscles and beads of sweat formed on your and the lack of conversation became stifling, you tried to talk.

“So,” you began, “this whole… crew thing. Picking people up as you go. Was it Felix’s idea or yours?”

“Do not be distracted,” Locus said reprimanding in place of an answer.

“Conversation helps me concentrate,” you replied.

He let a short, disbelieving snort, choosing not to respond. You pouted.

You paused for a few moments, setting the barbell down on rest and stretching your arms above your head- since you were laying down on the bench, it meant your fingers brushed Locus’ knees.

“You have anymore weights?” you asked, taking the time to tuck a few strands of sweat-dampened hair behind your ear.

Locus nodded, disappearing from your line of sight for a few moments and returning with a few more weights. He slid them onto the bar locked them into place, and you started your reps once again.

At this point, you were pushing at least one hundred-sixty pounds- although from the feel of it, Locus had grabbed weights heavier than the twenty-pounders you had been using. It was easily heavier than you were, and you could feel the heavy tension of your chest and shoulders, your breath huffing out in soft, deliberate rushes.

“You ever take off that helmet?” you said, your voice a little strained from effort.

“Does is matter?” Locus retorted stiffly.

You made your best attempt at a shrug, despite your shoulders being otherwise occupied with lifting almost two hundred pounds of metal. “I like to know the faces of the people I’m working with.”

There was silence. You didn’t push it.

Eventually you lost yourself in the monotony of the weights, with nothing but the creaking of the bench and your own quiet breaths as company.

You were so enamored with your work it was like you had escaped into your own little world, almost blind to everything else. So blind in fact, that when the door to the gym burst open you flinched. Hard.

The bar slipped from your hands, and the moment before it was about to crush your chest like a hammer to a can of soup you thought, ‘ _So much for chalk._ ’

About half a second before your ribcage turned to mush, Locus grabbed it, so close that his knuckles brushed the top of your chest.

“ _This_ ,” he grunted, hefting the barbell up with looked like a decent amount of effort, “is why you need spotter.”

You blinked. “Thanks,” you said, although it sounded lacking.

Locus ‘hm’d’ in response and set the barbell back on the bench.

“...Did I interrupt something?” Felix asked, standing in the doorway. He was out of armor, you noticed, wearing a solid orange tank and a pair of dark gray sweats. A sharp, wicked tattoo peeked out from under the collar of his shirt.

You slipped out from under the bar, rolling your shoulders as you stood. “I was just finishing up,” you said, hastily wiping the chalk that had rubbed off your hands and wondering when he had returned to the ship.

You nodded briefly at Locus and gave Felix a half smile as you left. He acknowledged you with a tilt of his head before turning to Locus.

“I need to talk to you.”

Whatever reply Locus had was cut off as the door shut behind you.

Your lips twisted into a frown. Felix had seemed... serious. Uncharacteristically so.

‘You’ve only known him for two days,’ Zeta pointed out. ‘It could be nothing. Maybe he’s serious on a bi-weekly basis.’

You let yourself grin a little at your partner’s comment. ‘ _What do you think he was doing in the bookstore back then?_ ’ you asked, allowing yourself some good humor.

Zeta cackled, sounding more like a cartoon villain than a product of advanced technology. ‘I bet he was looking up trashy teen romance novels,’ the AI snickered.

Your little grin grew to a full-blown smile, and you let out a tiny huff of laughter.

You made your way to the showers, dabbing at your neck and forehead with the towel that was still around your neck. Your ]tank was damp with sweat and stuck to your skin, and you made a mental note to ask Locus about laundry- buying new clothes every time you got sweaty seemed a bit unrealistic.

You hit the showers and washed quickly, sighing with relief as the hot water eased the ache that had built up in your muscles.

Once you had dried off and changed, a fresh towel around your neck to catch the stray droplets of water running down your hair, you headed to your room.

“Wow,” Zeta said, popping up to peer over your shoulder as you settled down front of the computer. “Working on shore leave. Of course.”

“Oh, quiet you,” you said. You squinted at an email notification. Whiskey had responded. “I just want to get this over with as fast as I can.”

Zeta snorted as you opened Whiskey’s email.

‘Sup,’ said the header, and you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

‘Thought you might want to know that I’m in one piece. Had a nasty infection, but the nurses think I might live. Haven’t left (yet). The food here is terrible, and now I don’t have anything to fly with. Hurry and and come pick me up.  
-<3 Whiskey’

You winced and laughed at the same time.

Oh. The Pelican. That Locus had blown up. That… could become an issue, since that had been you and Whiskey’s main method of planetary transportation. It was going to be a lot harder to go to work until you got that sorted out.

You hesitated. Unless…

You and Whiskey had always worked alone. It had been that way since the two of you had fled Freelancer those years ago- the three of you, if you counted Zeta.

You thought about Maui and Shirogane, Locus and Felix, the engineer you passed by in the halls and the crewmember who clapped you on the back.

It would be nice to start over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry!!! for the delay!!! and this chapter is a little shorter than usual but!!! i'm trying my best!!! thank you all so much for your patience  
> this chapter is dedicated to the lovely anon who left me a wonderful message on my tumblr and motivated me enough to power through this, and all the amazing readers who commented to wish me well


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brief warning for some heavier than usual violence and gore towards the end of the chapter

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming.

The rest of your shore leave had come and gone with relative quiet. You typed out a short reply to Whiskey- ‘sorry about your ship, I’m fine by the way, I’ll get you in a couple days so stay put’- and did some work on the encryption as Zeta made idle commentary.

You had poked your head out briefly to get something to eat during dinner- Mess Sergeant Gardner was out, by the looks of it, so you grabbed a couple granola bars and a bottle of water and went on your merry way, and the rest of your day was met with peace.

Of course, when you spent a day- a whole day!- in a similar peace, you didn’t think about it twice. Even Felix seemed to have shaken off his odd mood from the day before, and interacted with you in a- you daresay civil- manner. (The fact that the splint was finally off his wrist probably helped some- god bless advanced medical technology.) When that day was followed by a night of dreamless (and, more importantly, _nightmare-less_ ) sleep, it seemed that things might’ve been looking up for you.

Your fourth day on board was when it started going to shit.

You woke up when the ship started shaking.

Years of drills and training made your eyes snap open and you instinctively lunged for your armor. You shrugged on your undersuit quickly, and assembled your armor in record timing. You yanked your hair up and shoved your helmet on as you bolted out the door, HUD blinking to life on your visor.

Zeta wordlessly ran diagnostics, a familiar presence in the corner of your mind.

A couple engineers raced past you, likely headed below deck, and you started in the opposite direction to head towards the bridge.

Locus and Felix were there ahead of you, both barking orders and pacing.

“What’s happening?” you called, swearing when the floor rocked beneath you sporadically, and you thrust a hand out to the wall to regain your balance.

“Pirates, looks like,” Felix grimaced. He had his helmet tucked under his arm and ran his hand through his hair anxiously. “I just- _fuck_ , how’d they get so fucking close without us knowing? They didn’t even show up on radar until they started shooting! No heat emissions, no _nothing_.”

“We can ask about that later,” Locus said brusquely. “We need to stop them- and quickly.”

Another blast rocked the ship and Felix stumbled into you. You grabbed his waist to stop him from falling and grunted as his weight sent you both into the wall.

“These fuckers are gonna get it,” he snarled, wrenching himself from your grip without so much as a ‘thank you.’

‘Wow,’ Zeta said, his first comment for the day. ‘Rude.’

“Sir!” one of the crewmembers yelped. “Shields at twenty-seven percent! We can’t hold like this for much longer!”

“Divert all nonessentials to shields,” Locus ordered. “Focus all weapons on the ship-”

“Port side!” someone yelled.

You whipped around and gaped. A massive battleship rushed past the windows, guns blazing, and you flinched as the bullets ricocheted off the Andromeda’s weakening shields.

“That is-” you swallowed thickly- “a _Vindicator_. Are you sure those are pirates and we’re not being hunted by the _UNSC_ right now?”

“Positive,” Locus growled. “Felix! Get the crew. You need to board- take a small team and breach the hull by the airlock. Get in and take them out.”

“I’ll go with him,” you said.

“No,” Locus said flatly at the same time Felix shrieked, “What!”

You stepped up, chest to chest with him. “You need me for this,” you said through gritted teeth. “You need your best people if you’re going to take that thing down, and _you damn well know I’m one of them_.”

Locus met your gaze unflinchingly. Several long, tense moments passed before he exhaled sharply and turned to his partner.

“Take her and three others,” he ordered. “I’ll hold them in place long enough for you to get in, and after that it's up to you.”

Felix paused, as if debating whether it was worth it to argue, but when another round of gunfire sent the ship rocking he snarled. “Fine,” he said. “I swear to god, if I die-”

“ _Go_.”

Felix swore and turned heel. “Shirogane, Maui, Rowan, suit up and meet in the airlock, now,” he barked into his comms, jogging back to the hall. “Rowan, bring your demotech, and someone grab an extra gun from the armory.” There was a brief pause, and you could faintly hear a tinny, voice through Felix’s helmet. “For fuck’s sake, it doesn’t fucking matter what kind of gun, just fucking _get it_.”

The two of you made your way through the halls, and you had to jog to keep up with Felix’s quickening pace, stumbling as the ship continued to shake sporadically.

By the time you got to the hangar bay, all three of the others were there, armed to the teeth.

Shirogane had an assault rifle strapped to his back, and a heavily modded pistol holstered at his hip. Maui stood next to him, the most grim you had seen her yet, with a shotgun on her back and two wicked combat knives strapped to her thighs. She nodded to you stiffly and shoved an assault rifle and half a dozen magazines your way.

The third, Rowan, was slight in stature. He held a heavy looking backpack and a toolkit strapped to his utility belt. ‘Bring your demotech,’ Felix had said. A demolitionist, then?

Felix tossed something to each person and you almost dropped it, surprised by the heavy weight.

“Jetpacks,” he told you. “I’ll lead. We blast the airlock doors open and enter through there.”

‘Uh oh,’ Zeta muttered. ‘It’ll be like Georgia all over again.”

You choked, and sputtered into a coughing fit. Felix glanced at you, eyes narrowed behind his visor, and you waved him off.

“Shit,” Maui muttered, tightening the straps of her jetpack over her shoulders as you did the same. “This isn’t gonna be easy, isn’t it?”

“When are they ever?” Rowan replied dryly. He fiddled with something in his hands- a detonator of some sort. He flipped the cap covering the button, on-off, on-off, and a small, satisfying click sounded from the device every time he flicked it. It was equal parts soothing and irritating.

“ _Felix, are you ready_?” Locus said over comms. He sounded strained.

“As we’ll ever be,” Felix scowled.

“ _Good. On my mark, jump. We can temporarily jam their controls. You’ll have a short window of time to board before they start moving again_.”

“Fine. When’s it happening?”

“ _Now_.”

Felix swore violently. “Open the airlock!” he barked. “We’re leaving now.”

That was all the warning you got until the hatch opened with a hiss and you were all sucked into the vacuum. You activated your jetpack with a yelp, struggling to right yourself.

When you regained your bearings, Felix had already gained significant headway towards the massive Vindicator. Muttering profanities under your breath, you straightened your course and tailed him, briefly noting the positions of the other three.

Felix landed on the hull of the ship with a clunk, boots mag-locking to the surface instantly. He slid to the side, and you landed moment after him, crouching low with your hands on the hull for stability. Three more clunks marked the arrival of your teammates.

He waved Rowan over, and the demolitionist made his way cautiously across until he was positioned just next to the airlock hatch. He reached into his pack and pulled out a device about the size of an outstretched hand, round and charcoal grey. He clicked something, and it beeped in response. Apparently satisfied, he attached it to the seam where the door met the hull.

“Move back everyone,” he called, motioning for you pull away. You shuffled back, shoulders tense.

Your comms crackled as Locus checked in. “Hurry up,” Locus said. “You have another minute at most.”

“Working on it,” Felix grit out, irritated.

Rowan raised a hand, counting down on his fingers- three, two, one, _zero_.

He clicked the detonator, and you could feel rather than hear the rumble as the bomb set off. The explosion was eerily silent. A wave a heat flared across your front, and you averted your eyes from the light.

When it was safe to look again, there was a gaping hole in the hull, leading straight to the airlock chamber, and you all filed in. Rowan maneuvered himself to the console on the wall and tapped something out, and the doors leading out of the airlock hissed open.

It took less then ten seconds for all five of you to make it into the ship and for Rowan to command the doors shut again. You sighed in relief when your feet met solid ground, the artificial gravity anchoring you firmly to the floor.

“What’s the point in making shit explode in a vacuum,” Maui said, trying to lighten the mood, “if you can’t even hear it?.”

You let out a huff of laughter despite yourself, and even Felix snorted, shrugging off his jetpack and tossing it to the ground, the rest of you following suit.

“Well,” he said, “they probably know we’re here now. Rowan, stay here and watch our stuff- that’s our ticket out of here if it all goes to hell. Maui, Shirogane, head down to engineering and see if you can cut off their cannons. V, with me.”

Rowan nodded, handing Felix a block of something with a soft murmur of “Give ‘em hell, boss,” before Felix turned away sharply.

You frowned as you split up, and jogged to catch up with Felix. “Where are we going?” you asked,  
risking a glance back at Rowan, who looked like he was setting up a tripwire along the hall.

“We’re going to fuck ‘em up,” he replied.

You scoffed. “As cool as you might think you sound,” you said, “that’s not an answer.”

Felix scowled, apparently miffed that you hadn’t accepted his cryptic one-liner. “Heading to the bridge,” he grudgingly elaborated. “See if we can off their leader or something.”

“‘Or something,’” you echoed. “Wow. Sounds like one hell of a plan.”

He was about to bite out a sharp retort when the ship jerked to life beneath your feet.

“Controls are back online,” you deduced, sending a sidelong glance at Felix. “If we’re gonna fuck ‘em up, better do it fast.”

He half grinned, half scowled in response, but the thunder of approaching footsteps stopped whatever witty riposte he had planned.

His eyes narrowed and he readied his gun, and you hefted your unfamiliar rifle in your hands.

You paused at an intersection of hallways, back pressed against the wall as the footsteps approached. Felix slid into place next to you, close enough to touch.

“Shit,” someone was saying. “We need to hurry and get somewhere safe- holy _fuck,_ did you hear that explosion?!”

A small group of people- five in total, you counted, all unarmed and unarmored- ran past you. Noncombatants, judging by their disorganization. Felix made as if to point his gun at them as they ran by, blessedly ignorant of your presence, but you grabbed his arm, shaking your head sharply.

“Don’t,” you murmured.” You jerked your head to motion to one of them- a slender woman in a long white medical coat.

Felix growled lowly in response and wrenched his arm from your grip.

When the footsteps and frantic chatter faded away, you ducked out of hiding and continued to make your way to the stern of the ship, where the bridge would be.

You didn’t encounter anyone else, but anticipation made you tense and jumpy. You slowed to move more quietly, wariness settling into your bones and weighing in your breath.

When you stopped, Felix cursed.

“What now?” he hissed.

“Terminal,” you said in reply, pointing to the a small station by a door. “I can get the schematics for the ship, send some info Maui and Shirogane.”

Zeta popped up on your HUD, giving you a thumbs up.

You accessed the terminal, letting Zeta guide your hands, and you plugged a connecting cable from your suit to the port. Zeta had your information in moments, picking out engineering layouts to send to the others. Among the files he collected were the ship’s logs and data entries- useful for later, but not now.

You finished quickly, frowning as you mentally organized the notes.

“I think,” you said slowly, “the bridge is below us.”

“Below us?” Felix asked incredulously.

You squinted, tilting your head as you deciphered the blueprints on your visor’s screen.

“Yep,” you said. “Directly below, actually.”

“How the hell are we gonna-”

He froze.

Slowly, his lips curled into a feral grin and he laughed.

“Ah, Rowan,” he grinned. “Gotta love him.” He unhooked something off his belt- the object that the demolitionist had given him before, you remembered- and then it took you a moment more to realize that Felix had a brick of C4 in his hand.

He turned you, eyes gleaming wickedly behind his helmet.

“We’re gonna make one helluva an entrance,” he said.

“Oh boy,” you muttered under your breath.

Felix dropped the explosives rather unceremoniously in the middle of the corridor, and the two of you jogged to the end and ducked around a corner.

He cracked his knuckles as he popped the cap off the detonator, looking like he was enjoying himself a little too much.

“Three, two, one!” he cheered, and the explosion roared. You felt the ground shake violently beneath you despite your distance, and as soon as the floors stilled you rushed to the center of the damage. A massive, gaping hole had been opened in the hall, dust still clearing. You could here panicked shouts and angry commands and even blind, frantic gunfire and the pirates a floor down were caught off guard.

Felix whooped as he leapt down, and you grimaced as you jumped down after him, landing in a crouch.

He had already opened fire on the nearest unfortunate soldier by the time you had stood up, and you quickly followed suit, whipping around to smash someone with the butt of your rifle and whirling to fire a burst into another’s chest.

It was pandemonium around you, and some of the pirates were shooting each other, dust and debris blocking their vision.

You retreated until you were back-to-back with Felix, continuously firing on the never-ending stream of confused targets and only pausing to reload. You could hear your partner laughing near-manically as he gunned down more of the disorganized rabble.

A bullet ricocheted off your pauldrons and you swore. The dust was started to settle, and now the pirates were shooting at you instead of each other. With the element of surprise gone, the battle was going to be much harder to finish.

“Split up!” you yelled, and you rolled away just in time to avoid the spray of shotgun pellets aimed at your head. You disarmed your would-be attacker with a sharp jab to his arm and knocked him to the ground with an rife to the gut and spun to the next target, keeping your movements quick and unpredictable. Zeta fed you info as you fought, telling when and how much to pivots and helping you time your turns, and you worked like a well-oiled machine.

You didn’t get many chances to check on Felix without risking a bullet to the face, and he certainly wasn’t telling you anything over comms. You could only hope that we was holding up.

Suddenly, you heard a sharp cry and your head whipped around to glance at Felix, whose gun had been knocked out of his hands.

Your momentary distraction cost you, and you didn’t have time to dodge the combat knife came down on you.

The blade bit into the narrow, unarmored strip between your pauldron and the top of your chest piece, sinking into your collarbone.

You spit out a sharp profanity as you dropped your gun to grab the wrist of the knifeman, cracking his arm over your knee and ramming your elbow into hollow of his throat.

You yanked the knife out by the handle and tossed it to the ground next to its unconscious owner, medi gel rushing to the broken skin and numbing the wound. You raced towards Felix, who was armed only with a handful of knives and trying to take on three men at once- the last three.

You took the first one by surprise, coming up behind him and snapping his neck as he tried to train his gun on Felix as he darted between the other two.

The second turned, and Felix took advantage of the diversion of attention and plunged a knife into his neck. The pirate dropped with a choked gurgle.

And the third-

Shot you.

You stumbled back, hand to your stomach.

Felix cursed and slit the last pirate’s throat before dropping his knives and running to your side, the man’s still smoking shotgun clattering to the ground.

“Shit,” he snarled. He glanced down at the wound and even though his face was obscured by his helmet, you were sure he paled.

There was a lot of blood.

“ _Hey boss_ ,” Maui called through comms. “ _Took out their drive core. Cannons are down, but so will the rest of the ship in a minute. Can you get to the escape route?_ ”

“Might be awhile,” Felix grit out. “V’s hit. Stupid asshole.”

“Yeah,” you rasped out. You could taste copper in your mouth. “How _dare_ I save your life. The _audacity_.” Medi gel was flooding the wound, but it barely dulled the pain. You glanced at the shotgun, and then down at yourself. “Could be worse,” you decided, although you couldn’t hide the strain in your voice. “I could have been closer.”

“Shut up,” he growled. “Can you stand?”

You blinked blearily, finding yourself on the floor. “When did that happen?” you asked dazedly.

‘V, you’re losing a lot of blood,’ Zeta told you, sounding more than a little worried. ‘You need medical attention now.’

“I’m losing a lot of blood,” you parroted dutifully.

“No shit,” Felix retorted. He crouched beside and and set your arm over his shoulder, dragging you up as he stood.

“Maui,” he barked. “Meet Rowan at the airlock. Get out now.”

“ _Boss? Are you sure_ -”

“ _Now_.”

There was a pause. “ _Yes sir,_ ” Maui said, and the comm cut off.

“C’mon, V,” Felix coaxed. “You got shot in the gut, not the leg. _Walk_ , damnit.”

“Sure,” you replied. “Because that’s so much better.” You pressed your hand against the wound harder despite the pain, trying to put pressure on it to slow the bleeding.

The ship shook ominously, and the lights went out, the red of the emergency lights gleaming dully in replacement. You stumbled, and Felix reached to catch you with his other hand, holding you in some strange parody of an embrace.

“Life support failing,” a robotic voice said. “Please evacuate to the escape pods. I repeat, please evacuate to the escape pods.”

You groaned. “This is the worst day ever,” you mumbled into Felix’s chest. “Of all time.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> exposition, or- in which i try to fill all the plot holes i wrote myself into in previous chapters because i never expected this fic to get this far

You grimaced as you stumbled through the halls, a hand pressed to your bloodied torso to staunch the bleeding as you clung to Felix for support.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed. “ _Where_ are the fucking _stairs_!”

“Maybe you didn’t think your plan through,” you said dryly, teeth gritting in pain, “when you _blew a hole in the ceiling_.”

“Shut up,” Felix snapped.

“ _Boss, Shirogane and I are at the rendezvous with Rowan_ ,” Maui said, her voice tinny and hollow sounding through the comms. “ _Should we wait for you or-?_ ”

“Leave,” Felix ordered. “Life support started shutting down when you blew the drive core. You have to get out of here now.”

“Roger that,” Maui replied, and the comms clicked off.

You stumbled forward, vision blurring, and Felix hauled you back up, adjusting your arm around his shoulders.

“Stay with me,” he warned.

You tried to brush him off. “I’m fine,” said, lying through your teeth. “Let’s hurry up and find a way out of here.”

And then you fainted.

\---

Felix swore are V’s unconscious body suddenly slumped forward. He grabbed her, hoisting her up with an arm hooked under her knees and another under her arms.

“Shit,” he muttered, then, louder, “ _Shit_!”

He risked a glance behind. Even with the near-useless, dim lighting of the emergency alarms, the trail of blood she had left behind was glaringly obvious against the stark white floor tiles

There was definitely no going back the way they came- with V in that state, there was no way in hell they could clamber up the hole he made . He snarled as he passed another intersection, lost and growing increasingly desperate. V was cold and pale in his arms, and blood dripped steadily onto the floor as he paced.

“Where the _fuck_ am I supposed to go!?” he barked.

“ _Go right_.”

Felix flinched, clumsily whirling around, V a dead weight in his arms.

“ _Well, you turned around, so it’s left now, asshole_ ,” the unfamiliar voice said.

His comms. The voice was coming from his comms. But how-?

“ _Look_ ,” the voice said, beginning to sound irritated, “ _if you want to get off this bucket before she bleeds out, listen to me. Go. Left_.”

“Fuck you,” Felix said, and promptly turned left.

“ _Right at the next intersection,_ ” the voice ordered, “ _and then the emergency stairwell is the the first door on the right_.”

“Who are you?” Felix asked sharply, jogging quickly down the hall.

“ _It’s… not my place to say,_ ” the voice said hesitantly.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” he barked in reply, kicking open the door to the stairs and running up, two steps at a time.

“ _Does it matter_?” the voice snapped back. “ _Look, all you need to know is that I don’t want to see V dead. Take it or leave it._ ”

Felix cursed under his breath. He grimaced as he adjusted V in his arms. Her limp body and the weight of her armor was starting to take a toll, and the earlier fight wasn't helping. His breaths came out light gasps as he reached the top of the stairs.

“ _Right_ ,” the voice said, and Felix skidded as he turned, nearly slipping. Blood coated the soles of his boots and left streaks on the floor.

“Fuck,” he snarled, and- there! The airlock was finally in sight.

A half-dozen pirates laid scattered around the area, undoubtedly fallen prey to Rowan’s traps and tripwires. Whether they were dead or unconscious was unclear, but Felix wasn’t about to stick around and find out.

Two jetpacks were still on the floor, and Felix settled V down on the ground as he strapped one on.

“Life support shut down imminent,” the speakers blared. “Please evacuate.”

“Alright,” Felix muttered, gently hoisting V back up. He briefly checked that her helmet was secure, and tried not to flinch when her head lolled limply- lifelessly- back. “Here goes nothing.”

And he launched himself out of the airlock, gripping V tightly in his arms. The jet pack flared to life, propelling him quickly across space.

It felt like an eternity before Felix was close enough to contact the _Andromeda_.

“I need a medical team on hand now!” he barked into his comm. “I have one severely wounded,  
coming in through the airlock.”

“ _Roger that_ ,” someone responded, and the line crackled out.

Felix landed heavily on the hull of the Andromeda, and the hatch hissed open. He wasted no time slipping through, swearing as the chamber sealed shut and the artificial gravity kicked in, nearly dropping to his knees with the sudden burden of V’s weight. He slid her body to the side so that her arm was slung around his shoulder, and that his was around her waist, holding her somewhat upright. With his free hand, he yanked off his helmet, blinking away the sweat that dripped into his eyes.

He stumbled out as soon as the door back to the ship slid open.

“Boss?” Maui asked, wide-eyed. “I- holy shit, _V_?”

“Where’s the med-team?” Felix snapped impatiently. He had been standing for less than a minute and blood was already pooling at V’s feet.

“Here,” one of the doctors called, dressed in scrubs and wheeling a stretcher out. “Get her onto the gurney, we need to stop the blood loss and sterilize the wound. Robinson, prep for surgery and make sure the iodine is ready-”

“ _No_!” someone shouted. Felix froze. It was the same voice that had led him out-

A small, shimmering form materialized in front of them, hovering at eye level. “You can’t use iodine,” it said frantically, “V’s allergic to it, it’ll _kill_ her-”

The doctor, to their credit, recovered quickly. “Allergic to iodine? Fine, Robinson, get the isopropyl instead, we need to-”

Felix was barely aware someone took V from his hands and rushed her away, staring in shock at the tiny hologram. “What the _fuck_ -”

The hologram flinched and flickered out of existence.

Felix swore. “Wait-!”

And at that moment, Locus stormed in.

“Report,” he growled.

Felix groaned.

\---

You woke slowly, squinting against the stark white lights of the med-bay, You dimly registered the faint, steady beeping of a moniter and the faint pressure of an IV in your arm.

“You’re awake,” Locus said.

You groggily titled your head to face him. He was seated next to the bed, arms crossed and undoubtedly frowning behind his ever-present helmet.

“Not that I don’t enjoy waking up to your smiling face everyday, but we really need to stop meeting like this,” you said dryly, voice hoarse and rough. “I hope you didn’t strip me this time.”

“Felix brought you back,” he said stiffly, ignoring your attempt at humor. “You lost four pints of blood.”

“Yikes,” you said, risking a glance down. Your lower torso was covered with tightly wound bandages, with some rusty stains bleeding through. Another patch of gauze was taped over your shoulder.

Damn. You had just gotten that undersuit, and now it was filled with holes.

“As I am aware,” Locus continued tersely, “iodine allergies are quite rare.”

You stiffened. “They… are,” you said slowly.

“Then it is quite fortunate that a hologram informed us of your’s.” Locus said.

You sighed, head dropping back down onto your pillow with a muffled thump.

“Look,” you said. “I have my reasons for keeping secrets, just like you have do.”

“Military AI are dangerous secrets,” he said lowly.

“And I’m sure the reason why you’ve never shown your face is as harmless as a bunny,” you shot back, struggling to sit upright.. “I-”

“V,” Zeta said, and it took you a moment to realize that Zeta had spoken out loud, appearing at your shoulder in a flicker. Locus went rigid in his seat. “Tell him,” he said tiredly.

“Zeta, what the hell-” you hissed.

“I finished decrypting the files while you slept,” Zeta interrupted. “And I went through the logs of the pirate ship. It’s… not good.”

Locus stood abruptly, striding to the door of the medbay

“I am going to collect Felix,” he told you, “and you will stay put.”

And then he left.

As soon as the doors shut behind him, you whirled on Zeta.

“What the fuck,” you seethed, “was that.”

“The encrypted files are Project Freelancer’s modification schematics,” Zeta blurted. “And those pirates were being funded by Charon Industries to retrieve it.”

You froze. “What.”

“The files,” Zeta repeated. “They had all of the armor enhancements. All of them, V. And there was-” he paused. “Fragmentation,” he said, much quieter. “How to fragment AI’s.”

“Go back to the part where you said they were funded by Charon Industries,” you said. “As in, the same Charon Industries who hired us to get the files.”

Zeta shrugged. “That’s all I got,” he said, sounding apologetic.

A sigh escaped from your gritted teeth. “Fuck,” you muttered. “That is- _fuck_.” You ran a hand through your hair, wincing as the movement pulled tugged at the IV in your arm. “Explains how they could afford a ship like the Vindicator, at least,” you commented wryly.

“How long was I out this time?” you asked, gingerly slipping the needle out and flexing your arm.

“Twenty-seven hours,” Zeta replied. “Medically-induced. Wanted to keep you under until you could replenish your blood.”

You squinted at the blood bag that hung, mostly depleted and ominous, next to your bed. “Damn,” you said. “Four pints, huh? Must have been bleeding out like a badass.”

“More like bleeding out like a pussy,” Felix said, striding in through the doors, Locus following like shadow. “Fucking got blood all over me like an asshole.” He was dressed in civvies, and you could see that he hadn’t sustained any major injuries- a small patch of gauze had been set on his arm and a bruise on his collar, but nothing else. His eyes flickered between you and Zeta, and he seemed… twitchy. Nervous, almost.

“And if I hadn’t, it would have been your blood,” you retorted. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“That isn’t the point right now,” Felix deflected. “I came here to talk about _that_.” He gestured violently towards Zeta.

“ _We_ came,” Locus corrected. “So explain.”

You shared a glance with Zeta and took a deep breath,

“My full call sign is Special Agent Vermont,” you said, “and I am a former agent of Project Freelancer. Zeta is my AI partner.”

“Zeta,” Locus echoed. “The name you shouted on the shuttle, the day of your breakdown.”

You grimaced. “Yeah,” you replied. “The one and the same.” You fingers drummed a rhythmless around tattoo against your thigh. “Whiskey was my pilot and other partner- Agent Wisconsin. When the Mother of Invention crashed years ago, most agents scattered or turned themselves in to the UNSC. We chose the former.”

“To my knowledge, only a very select few were given AI,” Locus said. “All of which were required to be reported to the UNSC. Duplicated AI were strictly controlled-”

“Zeta isn’t a copy,” you interrupted. “That’s not what Project Freelancer did. They-” you hesitated. “They fragmented them.”

“Fragment?” Felix questioned. He had taken to pacing up and down the length of the room, running his hands through his hair every so often. “How does that even work?”

“Torture,” you said grimly. “They tortured the original AI until it just… broke. And then they collected the pieces. I wasn’t reported to the UNSC because Zeta is… smaller than that. A fragment of a fragment. A splinter. What he does is limited by what I can naturally calculate- he just does it faster.

“When Project Freelancer fell apart, Whiskey and I ran. We took to freelancing, ironically enough, and was like that for years. And then we took the job that made us run into you.” You shrugged. “The rest is history.”

“When we first met,” Felix said, “You jumped. Really, really high. Unrealistically high. Was that one of those armor enhancers?”

“Kind of,” you said. “Strength modifiers in my armor. Prototypes. The armor generates an electric field that hypercontracts muscle filaments. I can’t use it much or my muscles will deteriorate.”

“How did you find out about the fragmentation?” Locus pressed.

“I went to the crash site, after,” you told him. “I wanted… answers. I salvaged whatever I could from the wreckage, before the UNSC could get to it. I ended with more information than I could deal with and the sudden realization that everything I thought I was fighting for was a lie.” You let out a humorless laugh. “I thought we were saving people from the Covenant,” you said bitterly. “Turns out I was serving the delusions of an old man.”

Your gaze hardened. “I want to know who commissioned you to steal the files.”

“A private client,“ Locus replied. “Why is it relevant-”

“Those files contain blueprints for highly classified military technology created by Project Freelancer,” you said sharply. “Whoever wants them doesn’t have anything good planned.”

“From Freelancer?” Felix said. “Look, you picked those files up from a raider camp in the middle of ass nowhere. How the hell could those come from Freelancer?”

“ _I don’t know_!” you shouted, frustration roaring in your ears. Then, quieter, “I don’t know.”

“Our best guess is that after the crash, scavengers got there first,” Zeta said, piping up for the first time. “But how anyone managed to track those files there anyone’s guess.”

“Who’s your employer?” Locus said.

You exhaled sharply. “Hargrove,” you said. “Malcolm Hargrove. Charon Industries.”

You could hear a startled intake of breath from Felix.

“Well?” you pressed. “Who’s your’s?”

Locus crossed his arms uncertainly, and the uncomfortable silence stretched on. “Malcolm Hargrove,” he muttered finally.

You blinked. “Uh,” you said. “According to the ship logs I downloaded, Hargrove hired the pirates, too.”

“Well,” said Zeta. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

“No,” Locus growled, “it can’t.”

“Did Hargrove know you were Freelancer?” Felix asked.

“I… didn’t think so,” you said slowly. “But considering his resources, it wouldn’t be too hard to connect the pieces.”

You sighed, exhausted, and let your head fall back. “I can’t deal with this shit right now,” you muttered.

“Anyway,” Zeta said, “we can’t give Hargrove those files.”

“And what?” Felix argued. “And just give up the pay, just like that?”

“Exactly like that,” you snapped. “Look, what don’t you understand? We can’t give Hargrove those files. Who knows what he’s going to do with them!”

“That’s not our problem,” he retorted. “We’re mercenaries. We don’t fight for the greater good or for what’s right or any of that bullshit. We work for whoever’s paying the most.”

“Y-you can’t be serious,” you said incredulously. “This is bigger than that-”

“Not. Our. Problem,” Felix snarled. “Look, what don’t you understand?” he sneered, throwing your words back at you mockingly. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

You stared at him blankly for a moment. It was like the easy companionship the two of you had fell into recently had shattered completely. You grit your teeth hard enough you felt your jaw creak with the pressure.

“Zeta,” you said coldly. “Lockdown all the files.”

“On it,” he replied, and disappeared from sight.

“What the _fuck_ -” Felix barked.

“V-” Locus started.

“ _Enough_!” you roared. The two of them froze. You let out a long, shuddering breath through clenched teeth, chest heaving as you ignored the pain swelling in your torso.

“These files are my responsibility,” you said quietly. “I have to do this. Whether you agree or not doesn’t matter.”

The silence dragged on, and you refused to meet their eyes.

Felix swore. “Fuck this,” he spat, and stormed out, his heavy footsteps audible even after the doors hissed shut. Good thing the doors automatic, you that distantly, because Felix would have certainly slammed them with more force than they could handle if they weren’t.

Locus sighed, standing up from his seat. He sounded... weary.

“I will have more words for you later,” he said stonily. “But for now-” another sigh- “I have to check to make sure Felix doesn’t do anything… reckless.”

You snorted, a wry smile that didn't reach your eyes twisting at your lips. "You know," you said dryly, "what I really don't get is why Hargrove was gonna pay you guys so much more."

Locus paused for a second and let out a small huff.

Then he left too, and you brought your knees up to your chest and covered your face with your hands, and tried to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so people were liking felix too much so its now it is Time To Remind Everyone That He Is Kind Of An Asshole.  
> also  
> shit it's been a year???? since i started this fic???? holy shit. lmao it's only nine chapters. holy shit.  
> here's to another year of poor plot and a severe lack of romance


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which felix catches feels, locus is exasperated, and v takes a much-needed shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey ho  
> sorry this chapter came so late. i just had absolutely no idea where i wanted this to go.  
> (i don't,,, plan any of this, btw. no plot outline, no rough drafts, nada.)  
> on the other hand, i hope yall enjoy the content of this hehehehehehehe

_so on a scale of 1 to 10 how fucked are we?_

You snorted as you read the message on a datapad that one of the guards outside your door had brought you at your request. You had been messaging Whiskey nonstop for an hour, trying your best to explain your situation.

Zeta flickered dimly at your shoulder as you laid back on the thin cot, the bandages over your torso and shoulder uncomfortable and tight. You tapped out a response- “I’d give it a solid 13-” and draped an arm over your eyes, letting the datapad rest on your chest.

“This is a goddamn nightmare,” you mumbled. You wished you could curl up into a ball and sleep for the next decade.

“You’re telling me,” Zeta said. You could feel him sifting through details in the back of your mind, trying to organize the sudden influx of information.

You shifted your arm to glance at the datapad- no reply from Whiskey yet- and heaved an immensely tired sigh. Earlier a hassled-looking doctor had replaced replaced your IV with pills, and the painkillers you had taken were making you drowsy and foggy. You doubted you would be able to remain lucid for much longer.

“Go to sleep,” Zeta told you firmly. “I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

Despite your exhaustion- physical, emotional, you name it, you had it- you managed a small, genuine smile. “Thanks Zeta,” you said, words trailing in a yawn, and relaxed a little.

Sleep came quickly, quiet and dreamless.

\---

You woke several hours later.

Well, “woke” was an understatement. You were abruptly and rudely jolted into consciousness when Felix barged into the medbay, fully armored.

“Whuh-” you said.

“Fucking. _Hargrove_ ,” he snarled through gritted teeth, yanking off his helmet and chucking it onto a nearby cot.

You stared at him blearily, too tired to really try to comprehend him and more than a little irritated at your rude awakening.

“Got someone to do some digging,” he continued as you squinted at him blankly, “and you wanna know how many merc groups he hired? Fucking _seven_. There’s four more groups of those fuckers hunting down those files.”

“Great,” you said. “That's- _kuh_ -” you were cut off by a throbbing pain in your torso and grit your teeth for a few moments. “That's great to know,” you finished, not without effort.

Felix paused. His eyes flickered down to your torso, covered as it was by sheets, and then grit his teeth and tore his gaze away.

“And _you_ ,” he said, sharp and angry, and as quickly as temper rose, it deflated just as fast.

He sighed deeply, running his hand through his hair. “You had to make things complicated, didn’t you?” he muttered bitterly.

At this point, you were at least awake enough to shake off some of the drowsiness, and you forced yourself up onto your elbows, your body protesting every movement.

“Look,” you said, “what the _fuck_ is your problem?”

“My problem,” Felix raged, “is _you_.”

You resisted the urge to snort. “If I had a dollar for every time someone said that to me,” you huffed.

“You'd have exactly twenty seven dollars,” Zeta chimed in.

Felix bared his teeth. “ _This_!” he said, voice rising to a near shout, “This is my fucking problem with you!”

You raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“I don't know what to fucking think of you! You tried to kill me-”

“To be fair,” you interrupted, “you tried to kill me first. And you also stabbed me. With a knife.”

Felix ignored you. “And then you act like you hate me and you're fucking terrified of me at the same time, and the next minute you’re working with us, and then you get shot trying to save me, and now-” He hesitated. Exhaled sharply. “Now _this_.”

“And what about you?” you challenged. “In the span of a week you've stabbed me, held my best friend hostage, taken me shopping of all things, and dragged my mortally wounded ass out of a collapsing ship and across space to get me medical attention, and ‘ _now this_!’ How do you think I feel?!”

You watched his features shift- his brows furrowed, corners of his mouth tugged down, the faint sigh that escaped him and seemed to make him deflate.

“I-” he said, hesitant in a way that was so uncharacteristic, so definitively not Felix that it half made you wish you had kept your mouth shut. “I don't _know_.”

You didn't have a response for him. You could tell him when, exactly, the dynamic between you two has tipped so dramatically- that morning in the shower room, as he sat beside you and calmed your panicked heart. But how- that was something you couldn’t answer.

Well, you thought, you supposed you could just show him.

“Hey,” you said. “Come here for a sec.”

Felix squinted at you for a moment, lingering suspiciously until you waved him over impatiently.

He let out a long-suffering sigh- you noticed, slightly relieved, that his momentary bout of uncertainty seemed to have passed- and walked to your bedside with exaggerated slowness.

You rolled your eyes as he approached and briefly propped yourself on your elbows and reached up for him, grabbing the front of his chestpiece and pulling him down.

Felix’s arms shot out to brace himself against the bed, eyes wide, face close enough to yours that you felt his breath ghost across your lips.

With a cheeky grin, you cupped his cheek with one hand and tugged him down with the other, until your nose brushed against his and you could feel the heat from his cheeks against your own skin-

-and stopped.

Felix froze.

“You know,” you said mildly, “I’m waiting for you to make a move.”

Felix seemed to jerk out of his stupor, letting out of small, breathy exhale of laughter.

And then he kissed you.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you tilted your head so your noses didn’t bump together.

Slowly, you pulled back, and for a moment, Felix leaned forward, as if to chase after and continue, but then he pulled back as well, looking unexpectedly dazed, despite the chasteness of the kiss.

“Did that clear things up for you?” you asked, your smile turning crooked.

Felix stared at you for a few seconds before letting out the gustiest, most woeful sigh you had ever heard, dropping his head down to rest on your shoulder, careful not to crush you under his weight.

“I think,” he groaned, “you made things a hundred times worse.”

You laughed breathlessly, reaching up to play with his hair. “Oh really now?”

He snorted, the sound turning into a snicker halfway through and his breath warm on your neck.

Suddenly, the two of you dissolved into fits of laughter, and you linked your hands around his neck to pull him close, giggling near-deliriously as you turned your head to press another kiss to his jawline.

“I- ah _damn_!” You gasped as your laughter agitated the wounds on your torso. “I’m not saying I love you or anything, but you’re certainly nice to kiss. And good-looking.”

“Sure,” Felix scoffed. “Go ahead and take a bullet for a dude who’s nice to kiss. That’s believable.”

You couldn’t stop the flush that rose in your cheeks, but neither could you stop the grin that crinkled the corners of your eyes. “If you’re gonna slander my name, at least get the facts right,” you shot back. “That was buckshot. That counts as _at least_ twenty-seven bullets.”

“Admit it,” Felix teased. “You’ve fallen head over heels for me.”

“For what?” you retorted. “Your insatiable love of money and ridiculous temper?”

“My kissing ability and good looks,” he replied, and stole another kiss- this one decidedly less chaste than the last.

You smiled into the kiss, unable to help yourself, and when Felix nipped at your bottom lip hard enough to draw a gasp of surprise, you bit him right back.

Felix was grinning madly.

You couldn’t remember a time when you had ever been so openly affectionate with someone, much less with someone like this mercurial, filthy-mouthed merc. You were a little dazed, although you weren’t sure if it was from the kissing or the morphine.

Both, probably.

“For the record,” he told you, pulling back with a gasp, “you’re pretty nice to kiss, too. And you’re reasonably good looking.”

And then the medbay doors slid open.

“V,” someone said, shuffling in, “sorry I didn’t visit-”

Felix’s head whipped around, and you craned your neck to look.

“Oh,” you said. “Hi Maui.”

She gaped at the two of you.

“Holy. Shit,” she said.

“Um,” you said, attempting to disentangle yourself from Felix. “It’s not what it looks like-?”

“I fuckin’ called it!” she cheered. “Shirogane owes me fifty creds, that fucker!”

“ _What_.”

Maui paused. Then- “Oops,” she said hesitantly.

You blinked. “Are you-” you paused, frowned. “Are you guys betting on who I’m kissing?”

It was Maui’s turn to frown. “You’ve only kissed?” she said, sounding disappointed. “Damn. I had another fifty on you two banging.”

Felix choked, finally jerking back and scrambling back onto his own two feet. “What the fuck,” he said.

“Anyway,” Maui said hurriedly, “I should go. Things to do, money to collect and whatnot. Uh. Bye.”

And with that, she beat a hasty retreat.

You stared as the doors shut with a mechanical hiss.

“Should I… be concerned?” you asked. “You don’t have any rules against fraternization here, right?”

Felix dragged a hand over his face. “Locus won’t be happy if rumors spread,” he said, “but no.”

You bit back a grimace. _Ooh_ , you had forgotten about Locus.

To be fair, though, you reconciled, it was easy to forget about things when you were on painkillers and kissing Felix.

There was a crackling sound from his long-discarded helmet- his comms, you realized- and Felix groaned. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered, grabbing it impatiently.

He turned to you, finger-gunning. “Duty calls, sweetheart,” he said, and with a cheeky wink, strode out of the medbay.

You blinked owlishly. “Well,” you said to no one in particular, “that happened.”

“Jesus Christ,” Zeta said, popping up at your bedside, and oops you hadn’t even noticed he was online- “you couldn’t have at least pulled me before making out with that dickwad? First peeping on Maine and now this?”

“Okay, first of all, the locker rooms were co-ed and everyone saw _everything_ ,” you said, “and secondly, you could have just gone offline.”

The AI pouted. “ _Still_ ,” he whined, “a little warning would have been nice.”

You snickered at his distress.

The flimsy, itchy material of your hospital shift scratched at your thighs and tugged at it uselessly.

“Hey Zeta,” you said, “you know where my armor is?”

“Your room,” Zeta answered promptly. “At least, that's where Locus told some crony to put it after the doctors stripped you.”

‘ _Your room_.’ The phrase made you feel conflicted. On one hand, it was your room- you had made a place for yourself here, in this brief window of time.

But on the other, it wasn't likely it would be your for long. After that stunt you pulled with the files- “locking them down-” ask basically having Zeta re-encrypt them- and with your status as a runaway Project Freelancer agent revealed, your chances of a new life here were looking slimmer and slimmer.

Your good mood soured, you buried your face in your pillow, sighing heavily.

“This sucks,” you muttered. Why did Felix have to go and make things complicated?

“You're telling me,” Zeta shorted.

You sighed again, deep and tired sounding, and reached for your borrowed datapad, intending to check on your neglected conversation with Whiskey.

Predictably, there was a long string of unread messages.

_you're kidding, right?_

_duuuuuude that's so fucked_

_DUUUUUUUUUUDE WE’RE SO FUCKED_

_hey_

_hey v_

_yo did you fall asleep or did they kill you_

_did you succumb to the wounds of war_

_aw wait does that mean we don't have enough money for a new pelican??_

_v if you died without getting me a new pelican im taking a shovel, digging my way down to hell, and hauling your swiss cheese lookin ass out so you can buy me one i swear_

You snickered affectionately.

 _Still alive, unfortunately_ , you replied. _How long till you're discharged?_

Whiskey’s message was near instantaneous- _idk the doc wants to keep me under observation for another couple days._

You drummed your fingers on your leg. You had a couple of days to sort out this mess, then. Hopefully you could get things settled and reunite with Whiskey.

Hopefully being the key word.

 _I'll try to come pick you up soon_ , you told him, and made a mental note to ask Felix or Locus where, exactly, had they dropped Whiskey off and you sort of felt like a bad friend for not knowing where he was.

 _pls_ , came the response, and you laughed.

Then, with nothing better to do at the moment, you took another nap.

\---

You woke briefly for a check up from the same frazzled nurse who had given you the painkillers- (“You're healing nicely,” she had said, applying medigel and changing your bandages with practiced ease, “and you should be up and gunning in a day or two.” “You mean running?” you had asked, bemused, and the nurse had laughed and said, “I've been working with these people long enough to know you guys do a lot more than running.”)-then napped some more, and then had an enlightening conversation with Zeta about the pros and cons of carbon fiber versus fiberglass in modern shields, but the rolling unease that had settled in your gut showed no signs of abating.

“I'm gonna go crazy if I stay here any longer,” you informed Zeta, swinging your legs over the cot and stretching.

The doctors had done good work on your wound, and it was closed and largely healed over, despite the residual pangs of pain that occurred when you moved too much.

You paced around the infirmary restlessly, your bare feet making no sound on cold linoleum, running your hands through your hair and grimacing at its griminess. You hoped that Felix hadn’t noticed.

“I need a shower,” you muttered.

You rapped on the door twice, and a guard poked her head through the door, squinting at your suspiciously through her helmet.

“Can I go shower?” you asked.

The guard frowned. “I’m not supposed to let you out without permission,” she said slowly.

“It’s fine,” a familiar voice cut in. “I will accompany her.”

You glanced up at him- damn, he was tall.

“Locus,” you greeted him, and then- “You’ll ‘accompany me’ to the showers?”

He rolled his eyes. You couldn’t see it through his helmet, but you were _positive_ he rolled his eyes. At this point you were half convinced that he only hid his face constantly to hide his exasperated expressions.

“Yes,” he said firmly, “I will.”

You stared at him for a second, but when he didn’t relent you shrugged. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, I guess,” you said, and the guard, still listening in, choked.

Locus glared at you sharply- “Locus won’t be happy if rumors spread,” Felix had said.

Oops.

You smiled at him innocently.

Another unseen eye roll that you were _absolutely_ sure happened whether you saw it with your own two eyes or not, and turned on his heel with a short, “Come.”

You ambled a couple steps behind him, feeling a little awkward with your bare feet and hospital shift beside his fully armored, imposing form.

You studied him from behind as you followed. Wide shoulders and strong, bulky arms and a broad chest, tapering to surprisingly narrow hips. A very nice ass- ‘V, for for fuck’s sake,’ Zeta whined in the back of your mind- and sturdy, long legs.

Powerful. That was a word that came to mind when describing Locus- and very, very different from Felix, all wiry limbs and slender, cat-like grace. A shotgun versus a knife.

You nearly stumbled into Locus’ back when he stopped. He turned to glance at you expectantly and _oh_ , you were here.

You sidled past him and into the shower room- familiar ground to you, by now, and slipped into the partitioned stalls.

You heard Locus’ heavy footsteps enter the rooms behind you and you quirked a brow. ‘Accompany’ indeed.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Can it maybe wait until after I’m clean?” you replied, stripping off the shift and unwinding the bandages. You prodded at your stomach gingerly, wincing at the ugly pattern of the scabs that marred your stomach. ' _Those are going to scar_ ,' you thought mournfully.

“It would be in both our best interests to get this settled as quickly as possible,” Locus said stiffly, and you sighed.

You turned on the water, testing it on your hand until it was hot and steamy, and stepped into the spray.

“Well?” you said. “Go ahead and talk.”

“What did you do to the files?” he asked.

You pursed your lips. At least he was straight to the point.

“Re-encrypted them,” you said. “It’s a code specific to me and Zeta. You won’t crack it.”

“And nothing will change your mind?”

“No,” you said tightly. You grabbed a bar of soap and scoured at your skin furiously, in equal parts to vent your frustration and to wash away the smell of antiseptic and hospitals.

Locus exhaled sharply. “You realize this will cause problems,” he said, voice low and rumbling. “With both us and Hargrove.”

You laughed, short and harsh. It wasn’t not a nice laugh. “Oh boy, do I,” you said. You scrubbed at your stomach with more force than strictly necessary and hissed with pain.

You heard the shift of his armor. “V?” he said questioningly.

“Fine!” you said. “I’m fine.”

You double-checked for blood just to be sure. You didn’t want to risk passing out in front of him for the upteenth time. No blood, thankfully.

‘Loser.’

‘ _Shut up, Zeta_.’

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. “Felix told me what happened,” he said slowly. “I am… grateful that you saved him.”

You snorted. “He dragged my ass back here, so I guess we’re even.”

You dunked your head under the spray in the quiet that followed. Vaguely, you remembered the presence of civilians on that ship.

“Did… anyone escape that Vindicator?” you asked tentatively. You thought of the doctor that raced down the corridor past you and Felix, remembered stopping him.

“There was an escape shuttle that fled the ship,” he recounted. “We let it go.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Good.

“The Hargrove matter is still at hand,” Locus pressed. “If you insist on keeping the files for yourself there will be repercussions.”

“Just tell him you lost them,” you said. “That- I dunno, the other mercs took them but then when the ship was destroyed the files were lost,”

Locus considered your words for a moment. “Plausible,” he said, “but our reputation will take a hit. And failed missions don’t pay for equipment.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” you said dryly.

Locus made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded vaguely affirmative, but it you had an idea.

“Actually,” you continued, “I _can_ make it up to you.” You scrubbed at your hair vigorously. “Look, you already know that I’m a competent fighter, and I have a skillset that’s useful to you. I can work for you guys for a bit.”

He hummed in response. “That could work,” he replied thoughtfully.

You rinsed the remainder of the suds from your hair and shut off the water reluctantly, squeezing what you can from your hair. You reached for a towel-

-and quickly realized you didn’t have one.

“Hm,” you said. Well, Locus was just outside…

“Hey,” you called, “there a towel over there?”

You heard the rustle of Locus’ armor and after a moment a towel was draped over the curtain rod.

You thanked him quickly and dried off, grabbing the gauze bandages. You wrapped them around your torso, and then twisted around to try to tie the knot in the back, when suddenly pain lanced through you, and you yelped, stumbling.

“Ow.”

“What is it?” Locus questioned. He probably thought you were bleeding out again.

Not entirely unreasonable, all things considered.

You pulled back the curtain to the stall about an inch and poked your head out. Locus seemed startled by your sudden reappearance.

“Uh,” you said. “I’m not sure how to put to put this, but some help would be nice.”

He tilted his head, and you haphazardly yanked on your underwear and before you pulled back the curtain a bit further, revealing the half-tied bandages.

Locus fixed you with a piercing stare.

“I hurts if I twist too much,” you explained awkwardly. “I’m worried that I’ll reopen something.”

He let out an exasperated huff. “Turn around,” he ordered.

You complied, flinching as his cold gloves made contact with your back. He rewrapped the bandages- they were much neater and tighter than when you had done it yourself, you noticed, a little irritated- and tied the knot with firm, quick movements.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

Locus hesitated before removing his hands.

“You have many scars,” he commented as you shrugged the hospital shift back on. “A byproduct of Project Freelancer?”

“More like an occupational hazard,” you replied. “And I’m sure I’ll get a lot more before the world’s done with me.”

He sent you a sidelong glance before leading you out.

You wondered how many scars he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I!!!!!!! almost forgot!!!!!!!!!  
> i recently opened an ask blog on tumblr- https://ask-the-freelancers.tumblr.com/  
> you guys can ask the mercs (including siris and anyone featured in this fic) anything you want!! go send an ask my way!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jeebus. two chapters in a month??? who am i and what have i done with the real author  
> on the other hands schools starting so say goodbye to updates forever i guess  
> (jk. i promise i wont give up on this story)

You were discharged from the medbay the next day with minimal aches and pains and some scabs as your only proof of your injury.

‘Ah,’ Zeta hummed, ‘the miracles of modern medicine.’

He was right- you couldn’t even begin to count the number of times medigel had saved your ass on the field, and how well doctors did their job of patching you up so quickly. At this point, the only things modern medicine couldn’t heal in under a week were broken bones.

“Don’t strain yourself too much,” the nurse said, signing off on your papers. “Light to moderate physical activity at the most. Anything more and you’ll risk reopening your wounds. You won’t bleed to death, most likely, but it won’t be pretty.”

“Thank you,” you said earnestly, and the nurse huffed.

“If you’re _really_ that grateful,” she grumbled irritably, “stop getting yourself into situations that put you in here,”.

As you changed out of your hospital shift and into a set of civvies you idly wondered if that same nurse had been the one to care for you during your other stints in the medbay.

Locus was waiting for you just outside the door, arms crossed.

You blinked. “Hi,” you said, a little wary.

“I contacted Hargrove about the files,” he said without preamble. “I used your story. He didn't seem surprised. Disappointed, perhaps, but not surprised.”

“Did you tell him you knew what they were?”

“No. I told him they were lost before they were fully decrypted.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Locus tilted his head down. He was probably narrowing his eyes at you, you guessed. (You felt like you were getting better at reading his body language, but you could never confirm the accuracy of your predictions.)

“Where were you going?” he asked.

You blinked. “Mess hall,” you said. “I'm hungry.”

Locus studied you for a long moment. “You will return to your quarters immediately after,” he ordered. “Felix and I will meet you to discuss your… conditions. It would be best not to reveal your status as a Freelancer to others.”

You shot him a bland smile that belied your nervousness. “Sounds good to me.”

He nodded shortly and abruptly turned heel and left.

Your stomach growled.

“Man,” Zeta said, popping up to hover over your shoulder, “these mercs are weird as fuck.”

You groaned, and made your way to the mess hall. “You’re telling me.”

\---

You didn’t linger in the mess hall, greeting Maui and Shirogane briefly before you dug into your meal- the weak, watery gruel they served in the medbay had done little to alleviate your hunger.

“I had fifty creds on you being professional and not being in a relationship with either,” Shirogane grumbled.

Maui gave him a consolatory clap on the back. “He’s a sore loser,” she told you gleefully.

“How many people were in on the bet?” you asked, not really sure if you wanted to know.

“Oh,” Maui said, “not too many. Rowan- the demolitionist, you remember him?- a couple other down in the barracks, some of the doctors-”

“The _doctors_?”

She shrugged. “They get bored.”

You groaned, slouching in your seat. “And you told them all already?”

“That you and Felix and kissing and not banging yet? Yeah.”

“ _Yet_?!”

Maui’s laughter rang brightly in your ears, and even Shirogane snickered behind his hand.

“Look, V,” she said, “I’ve got fifty on you guys getting down and dirty with Felix in the near future. Help a sister out.”

You flushed brightly and rested your head on the table, hiding yourself with your arms. “You guys are the worst,” you said, your voice muffled.

Maui pat you on the head. “It’s a gift.”

\----

You had been in your room for the entirety of twenty seven minutes, idly chatting with Zeta and pondering your impending doom, when a sharp knock on your door jolted you to attention.

“Come in,” you called, sitting up straight on the edge of your bed.

Locus and Felix strode into the room- Locus, predictably, in full armor, but Felix casually dressed down in civvies.

“...Hey,” you said.

Felix grinned at you crookedly. “Verdict’s in,” he said. “We’re keeping you.”

“What he means,” Locus said pointedly, “is that we will agree if you are willing to work under us, with certain conditions.”

Your eyes widened, a sharp, relieved exhale escaping your lips.

“I- shit, wait,” you said. “Whiskey, my partner- can we pick him up?”

Locus tilted his head. “The pilot,” he said. “The other Freelancer? Wisconsin?”

You nodded. “He should be out of the hospital soon. He can make himself useful, I promise you.”

Locus paused for a beat. “I will consider it,” he said, and even though it wasn’t an agreement, it still took a weight off your chest.

“Now, the conditions,” he said, in his ‘serious voice,’ which was about thirteen percent more intense than his normal speaking voice. You shifted to sit a little straighter. “You will not inform anyone on the ship of your status as a Freelancer. Your AI has already been seen by many of the crew, so it will not be necessary to hide it.”

“Hey, dick biscuit,” Zeta said irritably, flickering to life at your shoulder, “it’s right here. And my name is Zeta.”

Both of them twitched a little, startled by Zeta’s sudden appearance.

“Zeta, play nice,” you scolded him.

He crossed his arms and pouted, his avatar flashing in a way that meant he was sulking.

Locus recovered his composure quickly. “Fabricate a story about his origins if you must,” he continued, “but make sure there is no link to Project Freelancer. You are technically wanted in the eyes of the UNSC.”

“Got it,” you said.

“Anyway,” Felix interrupted, “we got a job coming up that we could use your help on. Not expecting much action, so it’ll be good for you to ease into.”

“Felix will brief you more later,” Locus said. “For now, rest.”

You couldn’t even manage a “see ya” before Locus was out the door. Felix waited till the doors closed before he turned and winked at you.

“Wanna make out?”

You rolled your eyes and Zeta made an audible gagging sound.

“You know what?” the AI said? “Fuck it. I’m logging off. Goodbye, forever-” and blinked away.

“Did you know the doctors were in on the bet?” you said. “The fucking doctors. Is that allowed?”

Felix shrugged. “They get bored,” he said.

You let out a gusty sigh and flopped down on the bed.

Felix snickered at your reaction, leaning over and bracing his arms on the mattress on either side of your head. “Hey,” he said, hovering over you, the smirkiest smirk physically possible painted on his face.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest.

Felix expression remained unchanging and you cracked after moments, grinning as you tugged him the rest of the way down and kissed him.

You playfully nipped at his bottom lip, a giggle stifled against his mouth as he retaliated by dropping most of his weight on top of you. You were briefly thankful that he wasn't wearing his armor- you would have been  _crushed_ \- and then you weren't thinking very much at all.

You broke apart for air, and you halfheartedly shoved him off of you. Felix rolled aside with a fuss, still smirking.

“You are insufferable,” you informed him.

“You love it,” he replied cheekily, hauling himself up. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours to brief you. See ya, sweetheart,” and left with a two-fingered salute and a cocky grin.

When the doors closed behind him, you rolled onto your stomach and buried your face in the thin pillow, even as you rolled your eyes at the corny nickname.

God, you were _fucked_.

\----

It took you a while to coax Zeta back online, but you managed it (after a great deal of whining on Zeta’s part) and spent the better part of two hours chatting and updating Whiskey on the recent developments.

Then Felix dropped a package in your lap.

You quirked an eyebrow. “What's this?”

“Our next job,” he said cryptically.

And then he winked at you.

You rolled your eyes, tearing open the wrapping. Soft cloth met your fingers and you frowned, tugging it out of the remains of the packaging.

“A dress?” you asked, holding it out in front of you.

“Yup,” Felix said. “Time to make yourself useful.”

You shot him a glare and he snickered.

“So,” he continued, “we’re getting dropped off on the next planet, some shit place called Kadara. Mostly desert, and it's a fucking nest of smugglers. Got some nice clubs, though, which is what we're interested in.”

“Right,” you said, drawing out the word for a few seconds. “And our job is, what? Club hopping?”

“I wish,” he snorted. “Nah, it’s a bounty job. The old fuck who runs one of them has a list of offenses five miles long. Murder, racketeering, drug trafficking, the whole nine yards.”

He passed you a thin folder and you opened it. A picture of a miserable looking geriatric stared back at you, followed by some papers with details of his extensive crimes. Damn. Felix wasn't kidding when he said a long list.

You frowned. “You’d think they’d get law enforcement to, I dunno, enforce the law.”

Felix let out a bark of laughter. “If the work pays,” he said, shrugging. “Anyway, change and meet up at the hangar in an an hour. We're taking a shuttle down.”

He flicked a two-fingered salute at you as he left- you mirrored the action with a grin.

You draped the dress over your bed, smoothing out the wrinkles, and dug out a shoebox holding a pair of heels from the packaging.

“Well,” you said, “guess I'll at least try it on.”

The dress was… really nice, actually. It was your favorite color- whoever had picked it either made an educated guess from the color of your armor or just got lucky- and the material was smooth and cool against your skin. It fit just right (which was actually a little suspicious, who knew your measurements that well?), and the fabric was stretchy enough that despite its form-fitting shape it allowed you comfortable movement.

You smoothed your hands your front. The dress was, admittedly, quite short, but you never skipped leg day back in training and the results were certainly paying off. The neckline was pretty low, curving into a sharp ‘v,’ and thin, gauzy material started where the neckline left off, flowing out into wide, billowing sleeves that tightened to a cuff at your wrists. The transparent fabric didn't do much to cover your cleavage, but did an excellent job of making your various scars and the hard lines of muscle much less noticeable.

 _Nice_.

You tied your hair into a messy bun and did your makeup with some that you had hastily borrowed from Maui- something simple, since you didn't really have the time or skills to do anything more.

(Maui’s eyebrows had shot up and she let out a low whistle. “Damn V,” she had said, “what's the occasion?”

“It's for a job,” you replied.

Maui wiggled her eyebrows. “Here's the good stuff,” she said, “sweat proof, non-running. The works. Careful though, the lipstick stains.”)

‘Do you even know what to do at a club?’ Zeta asked derisively. ‘It's been, what? Seven years? Eight? Freelancer didn't exactly give a lot of shore leave.’

“Shut up,” you grumbled, knowing he was right. You hadn't been to a club- or around alcohol, for that matter- since your days in basic, before the Project plucked you from the UNSC and threw you into the fire.

You swiped the lipstick over your mouth, the color stark against your skin.

‘Wheels up in fifteen,’ Zeta relayed dutifully. ‘Might wanna start wrapping up, beauty guru.’

You rolled your eyes and packed up.

You had a job to do, and damn if your weren't going to do it well.

\----

You strode into the hangar with only a handful of strange looks. It had taken you most of the walk there to get used to the heels, but by the time you made it there you had managed to maintain a confident- if not comfortable- stride.

Felix was there, dressed _very_ nicely in a sharp black suit and bent over a datapad, muttering something to a dock worker. He glanced up at you briefly and did a double take.

He let out a low whistle. “You clean up nice.”

You grinned back crookedly. “Not too shabby yourself,” you said.

Felix preened under the praise.

“Locus is already down there,” he said, smoothing back his hair carefully with a gloved hand. “We’re meeting him inside.”

You made an acknowledging sound in the back of your throat, impatiently pushing a few runaway strands of hair behind your ear.

Felix stood by the door to the shuttle and made a grand, sweeping gesture. “Ladies first,” he said.

You shot him an unimpressed look as you walked past him, slipping into your seat and crossing your arms as Felix slid in across from you.

You heard the muffled commotion from the crew outside as the shuttle shuddered to life, and you leaned your head back and closed your eyes as the shuttle smoothed to glide and jettisoned across space.

“We’re gonna split up once we hit the club,” Felix said, bringing back to awareness. “Someone to scope out the ground floor, and someone to hit the top.”

You nodded, turning to watch your gradual descent onto the planet. Felix was right when he had said it was nothing but desert- even from this height, you could see the vast expanses of brown and orange that covered its surface.

“Hey, V,” Felix called. “You good?”

You blinked, facing him. “Yeah,” you said, “I’m fine. Just…” You exhaled sharply. “Jittery, I guess? It’s weird taking a job without, you know, being armed to the teeth.”

He stared at you for a long moment, something indiscernible in his eyes. “We’ll have your back,” he said, with an odd sort of gentleness.

You smiled. “And I’ll have your’s,” you echoed.

The pilot’s voice crackled in the speakers. “Hold tight,” he said, “beginning atmospheric descent.”

You braced yourself as the shuttled rattled, gripping the rail on the side with white knuckles.

“Honestly, this’ll be the worst part of the mission.” Felix said, sounding strained. As if on cue, the shuttle jerked violently and you were nearly thrown out of your seat.

The turbulence was over quickly, thankfully, and you sighed with relief as the ship circled a landing dock. It was evening on Kadara, the sun casting crimson shadows over sprawling sand and bathing the sky with a golden glow.

Felix offered you a gentlemanly arm as you disembarked, and you fluttered your eyelashes exaggeratedly as you took it.

He slyly tucked something into your hand once you got close. “Earpiece,” he said by means of explanation. “Locus’ll get pissy if we’re not on comms.”

Something in his tone said there was a story behind that, but you took it without question, subtly tucking it in your ear as you fixed a few stubborn strands of hair.

Felix led to down the street of the docks, leaving the pilot to sort out his business, and through a set of gates that swung open with a rusty shriek.

“Charming,” you murmured, plastering on a vapid smile as you passed a couple of armed guards.

“You haven’t even seen the best part,” Felix replied easily. The gate marked an abrupt change from desert to concrete, suddenly surrounding you with cold grey stone and rusted metal.

Your smiled nearly turned to a grimace as the two of you headed down the shadiest alleyway you had ever seen, nearing a hole-in-the-way doorway surrounded by garish neon lights.

“Classy,” you said dryly.

Felix snickered in response as you entered, a dimly lit, grimy hallway stretching out in front of you. You could feel the bass thrumming under your feet, the muffled sounds of an upbeat dance song playing in another room. A bouncer stood and gave you the stink eye, but Felix passed him a handful of bills and he let you pass without a fuss.

The earpiece crackled.

“ _Felix, V_ ,” said Locus. “ _Respond_.”

“Just got in,” Felix said. “Heading to the meetup.”

The club was crowded and smelled strongly of alcohol, sweat, and what you suspected was smoke from some sort of drug, and the air felt smoggy and heavy in your lungs. You tried not to breathe in too deeply as you and Felix skirted around the edge of the dance floor, the music near deafening at this point.

The “meetup” turned out to be the men’s bathroom.

You stared. “Classy,” you said again.

“We don't exactly have a lot to work with here,” Felix pointed out.

He opened the door and the two of you slipped in unnoticed.

An unfamiliar figure was waiting inside, and you observed him clinically, listing off features rapid-fire in your head. Tall, broad shouldered. Dark hair pulled back in a low tail, warm, brown skin. Charcoal, clean-pressed suit. He turned to face you- high, sharp cheekbones, pale gray eyes, wide mouth and strong jaw- and spoke.

“You're _late_ ,” the stranger said in what was unmistakably Locus’ voice.

You did a double take.

“L- _Locus_?!” you sputtered.

“What?” he said gruffly.

You stared at him for a few moments, awestruck. “I… I didn't think you had a face,” you said weakly, finally.

Locus shot you a withering look.

Oh _no_ , you thought, he's _hot_.

‘I hate you,’ Zeta buzzed, ‘with every fiber of my intangible being. You are the worst. Why do you this.”

You shushed him as you tried to focus on Locus’ words and not his pretty eyes or nice cheekbones.

“Felix, stay on the ground floor,” Locus was instructing. “Monitor the movements of the bouncers and keep us updated. V, with me. We’ll head upstairs.”

“Do we have weapons?” you asked.

Locus frowned. _Fuck_ , it was so weird to see expressions on him. Or just a _face_.

“-minimal armaments,” he said, hands hovering over a pocket of his suit where there was inevitably a weapon stashed, and _oops_ you had gotten distracted again. “However, there's little security. We should be fine.”

Felix passed you a thin stiletto knife and sheath. “Just in case,” he told you.

You accepted it with a grateful smile and hiked up your skirt a little to strap it to the inside of your thigh. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Locus pointedly look away, and Felix adopt a sleazy grin.

‘Two kinds of people,’ Zeta chirped, and you fought down a laugh.

You stood back up and adjusted your skirt, satisfied that it hid most of knife and left it largely unnoticeable.

“Okay,” you said, “I like the plan. Quick question- how are we getting upstairs without getting noticed?”

“Felix will create a temporary distraction,” Locus replied.

“Leave it to me,” said merc grinned. “Those douchebags won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Locus rolled his eyes, exasperated (You knew it! You fucking knew he was doing it all this time!) and Felix laughed.

“We good with the plan?” Felix asked, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders. There was a bright, manic gleam to his eyes that you had come to associate with a craving for action.

“You go make a fool of yourself, and I’ll follow Locus like lost puppy,” you said, and Locus looked at you, unimpressed.

“I mean,” Felix said, “she’s not wrong.”

Locus rolled his eyes. “Just get to work.”

\----

Whatever Felix did, it lured the two guards away from their posts long enough for you and Locus to slip up the grimy, dilapidated stairs and get to the second floor. It led to a straightforward hallway with a half dozen doors along its walls before it turned sharply to the right.

Locus frowned, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “The target should be in the main office, north end of the building,” he said. “Knock him out and we’ll take him through the fire escape. Felix should be out with a car by then.”

Your eyebrows raised. ‘ _A car_?’ you thought to Zeta. ‘ _Where’s Felix gonna get that_?’

You could feel him shrug.

The two of you crept along the corridor. You tried one of the doors on a whim and found that it was locked.

“So much for a hiding spot,” you commented dryly, and Locus glanced at you.

The dim light cast long, gray shadows over his face. He looked more like a statue than a man, you thought idly.

You heard the voices coming down the hall the same time Locus did.

You froze for a second, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Locus reach for the knife in his jacket.

There was no way you two were taking out armed security guards when with zero armor and a couple of shitty knives and _fuck_ the voices were getting louder by the second and you had to act fast.

You glanced around. Two people in a deserted corridor on the floor above a rowdy club? You could work with that.

‘ _Hey Zeta? Go offline for a bit_.’

‘I hate you. So much.’

You didn't let yourself think too much when you pulled Locus by the arm and basically pinned up against the wall and yanked him down by the tie and kissed him.

His eyes were wide with shock and he instinctively tried to jerk out of your grasp and you felt pretty bad for him but if he didn't get his act straight then forget trespassing, you were gonna get kicked out of the club for molesting the poor man.

You tugged at his tie insistently and rose up on your tiptoes to get a better, more natural angle.

“Play along,” you murmured and then the guards were almost right on top of you.

“Anyway, I told Jenkins to go fuck himself and- holy _fuck_!” one of the guards yelped.

“Uh,” the other one squeaked, hesitantly waving his gun, “this is… a restricted area?"

You peeked at them with lidded eyes. They looked rather young, maybe twenty at the most, and wet behind the ears, if how easily they were startled was anything to go by.

You bet you could scare them off easily enough.

You pulled away slightly, trailing a down a little to press your mouth against his throat. Locus let out a particularly pornographic sounding moan that you weren't entirely sure was an act.

“Look buddy,” you drawled, your voice low and husky, “why don't you two boys run along and let the adults have their fun, yeah?”

You hitched a leg up around Locus’ hips, your skirt hiking up to show an obscene amount of leg, and pressed flush up against him. You could feel his breath hitch.

“Oh my god,” one of the guards whispered. “Mom warned me ‘bout girls like her.”

You stifled a snort of laughter, making a shooing motion with your hand as you started to undo Locus’ tie.

“Well?” you said expectantly. “If you're gonna stay for a show, I'll start charging you.”

At some point, Locus' hands had found a place on your waist, and he was gripping you tightly. Not hard enough to bruise, but you were certainly aware of him.

The guard let out a strangled noise. “We- we’ll- uh- leave you to it,” he said weakly, and they shuffled around you two awkwardly and continued on their way.

You lingered, hands resting at Locus’ collar for a few moments longer, until the guards footsteps faded away down the hall.

When you were met with only silence, you breathed out a gusty sigh of relief.

“Well,” you said disentangling yourself from Locus, “that could have been worse.”

As you pulled away, his hands hovered in the air at waist level for a few moments, as if he didn't know what to do with them, before he dropped them limply at his sides.

After a few seconds, Locus seemed to regain his composure, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Next time,” he growled, “ _warn me_.”

You fluttered your eyelashes at him. “Next time, huh?” you replied cheekily.

Locus paused, bemused, and the moment the lightbulb went off he flushed. “That is not what I meant-” he started, and you laughed.

Felix’s voice crackled to life in your ear, interrupting you. “ _Yo V, Locus, headin’ out. I’ll be outside with the getaway in ten_.”

Locus took a moment more to compose himself before he responded. “Roger,” he said stiffly. “V and I are nearly to the target’s office. Report if anything comes up.”

“Job isn’t over yet,” you said, more to yourself than anything, and Locus let out a gusty sigh.

“No,” he said. “No it isn’t.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which it's locus' turn to catch feels, and consequences are had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what,,, the fuck,,,,,,,,,,,, THREE chapters in a month,,,,,,,,,,,,,,  
> ngl i was on a fucking roll with these two and the words kept coming- conveniently during a calculus lecture, but ok  
> also i fixed some of the tags to be a bit more accurate- i made a lot of them before the story had any substance so they were a bit misleading

You rounded the corner, peering down the hallway with narrowed eyes.

No guards, thankfully- you weren’t sure that a repeat performance would be as convincing. There was a momentary whirring in the back of your mind as Zeta came back online, accompanied by a sense of disgruntlement.

You and Locus neared massive, gilded double doors of the target’s office.

“Approaching the objective,” Locus murmured into his earpiece.

“ _Roger roger_ ,” Felix chirped back, sounding rather cheerful.

You wondered what he was doing to prompt such a carefree response and quickly decided that you’d rather not know.

You unsheathed the stiletto from its holster on your thigh, the narrow blade glinting dully in the dim light, and you saw Locus pull out a similar knife from the inside of his jacket.

The two of you took your places on either side of the door. You could hear the muffled sounds of a one-sided argument through the wood- a phone call, perhaps.

You tilted your head questioningly.

Locus shook his head, raising a fist, palm facing you. _Wait_.

You rested your back against the wall, leaning your head back against the cool concrete tracing your fingers along the flat of the blade in aimless patterns. The shouting behind the door increased in volume, crescendoing in what was undoubtedly the sound of a phone hitting the wall.

“On my mark,” Locus murmured, holding up a hand, fingers up. _Three, two, one_.

You opened the door and Locus slipped in noiselessly, and you followed a moment after, shutting it behind you.

The target was facing away from the two of you- he hadn’t noticed you yet, but he was swearing profusely and you could see how he trembled with rage.

‘Better hurry up,’ Zeta commented wryly, ‘or that old fuck’s gonna give himself a stroke before you can turn him in to the police.’

You couldn’t fault with his logic, and, with a quick affirming glance to Locus, you stalked up behind the man and pressed the blade to his throat.

“Not a sound,” you told him, “or I’ll slit your throat.”

He stilled. “You won’t kill me,” he sneered, even as his voice wavered with fear. “I take it from the lack of sirens that you’re not the cops. And if you’re not cops, you’re bounty hunters. So you won’t kill me. You want the money too much.”

“Oh,” you said mildly, “the money will be a disappointment, certainly, but knowing that I made scum like you disappear is all the reward I need.”

The target whimpered at that. “You wouldn’t dare,” he choked out. “You’re bluffing, I’ll call security-”

You knocked him out with a sharp jab to the back of the neck, and he fell forward onto the ground.

You flashed a smile at Locus. “Easy-peasy.”

“Don’t get cocky,” he growled. “We still have to get him out.”

He strode past you to the target’s prone body and cuffed his wrists before hefting him up over his shoulder effortlessly and turning to eye you with exasperation.

“You lead,” he said. “The fire escape should be just down the hall.” Then, into his comms, “Target in hand, heading to the rendezvous point.”

“ _Got it_ ,” Felix replied immediately. “ _On my way. ETA three minutes_.”

Locus jerked his head towards the door, and you hastened to lead, reopening the door and surveying the hallways.

“Clear,” you reported, slipping out. There was a short creak as Locus widened the opening to accommodate his wider frame and the deadweight on his shoulder, and you took the opportunity to scout ahead.

Sure enough, there was a large window facing an alleyway, the telltale rails of a fire escape just outside.

You unlatched the window, ears alert and waiting for the sound of approaching footsteps, and beckoned for Locus to come over.

You hopped out the window and landed gently, cautious of the noise your heels might make against the sheet metal. Locus clambered through more slowly, gingerly maneuvering the target’s limp body and himself through the opening.

You shut the window behind them and peered down to the alley below. It was a good fifteen feet drop to the ground. “Should I extend the ladder?” you questioned dubiously.

“Too loud,” Locus objected. He stood beside you, considering the distance. “I’ll go first. Throw the body down after.”

“We could just toss the body down first,” you suggested blithely, then smiled airily when Locus fixed with a judgemental stare. “Or not.”

Zeta hummed the first ten seconds of ‘ _Let the Bodies Hit the Floor,_ ’ and you stifled a snicker, replying with the chorus of ‘ _It’s Raining Men_.’

Locus settled the body on the floor and grabbed the edge of the platform, swinging himself off and hanging for a moment before dropping to the ground.

At his signal, you rolled the body off and watched as it fell into Locus’ strong, waiting arms, and he caught it with a grunt of exertion.

‘ _God, I wish that were me_ ,’ you thought, mostly for Zeta’s benefit. (Although you couldn’t deny that Locus’ arms were indeed very strong looking.)

‘Shut. The fuck up. Oh my God.’

You leapt of the platform and landed with a bit less grace than you prefered, wobbling a bit in your heels. Locus briefly put a steadying hand on your shoulder, the warmth and weight comforting against the brisk chill of the night air.

You could see the lights of the street from the opening of the alley, and you hung back well behind the line of sight of any possible passing pedestrians.

“We’re out,” Locus informed Felix. “In the alley on the east side of the building.”

“ _Can you get a couple blocks away_?” Felix replied. “ _There was a big group of people outside when I left. Loading the goods might be a bit… conspicuous_.”

Locus murmured his assent, glancing at you.

You nodded and started to lead again, scouting out the turns of the backways alleys and peering out onto the street to gauge the distance from the club, with Locus following a few paces behind.

Once you were satisfied that you were far enough, you poked your head out and relayed the street you were on to Felix.

“ _I see you_ ,” he responded.

Sure enough, a sturdy-looking black van approached, slowing as it reached the curb. The tinted window rolled down to reveal Felix’s smirking face. “‘Sup.”

“Shotgun,” you said immediately.

Locus let out a long suffering sigh as you popped the trunk, and he tossed the target in with minimal effort.

You shut the trunk with a grin and practically skipped to the passenger’s side, seating yourself in the next to Felix.

“Buckle up,” Felix said mockingly as Locus slipped into the backseat, crossing his arms with short exhale.

“Where’d you even get this thing?” you asked incredulously. You were pretty sure the seats were _real leather_.

“It’s a rental,” Felix said in a tone that made you doubt very much that it was, in fact, a rental.

You glanced at him doubtfully and he shot you a smile that would have been trustworthy on any other person but Felix himself.

He chattered aimlessly as he drove you to the police station, a familiar sound to you by now, and Locus remained stoic and silent in the back.

When you reached the station, Felix hopped out. “I’ll handle from here,” he said. “You two can stay in the car.”

You glanced back at Locus, eyebrow raised.

“I’m more of a people person,” Felix said, hopping out of the car.

He leaned on the door and winked. “Hang tight sweetheart,” he said, and you and Locus rolled your eyes in tandem.

You watched Felix (quite literally) drag the unconscious body rather unceremoniously to the station for a few moments, shifting into an uncomfortable silence with Locus.

You grimaced a little, folding your arms across your chest self-consciously.

“You did well,” Locus said suddenly.

You blinked, startled. “Excuse me?”

He paused for a moment. “On the mission,” he clarified, a bit awkwardly. “You… thought quickly.”

You took a second to process his words and _oh shit_ he was talking about you pinning him to the wall and kissing him.

Admittedly not your most well thought out of plans, but Locus was praising you for it.

“...Thank you,” you replied delicately.

Apparently that was all Locus had to say on the matter, and the two of you lapsed into a somehow even more uncomfortable silence.

You pursed your lips, determinedly staring out the windshield.

‘Good job,’ Zeta snorted. ‘This is absolutely, entirely your own fault. Why’d you do it? Why?’

‘ _You gotta do what you gotta do,_ ’ you thought, suppressing a smile at Zeta’s exasperated sputtering.

Luckily Felix’s people-person skills were quick and efficient, and he was back in minutes, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips and a receipt in hand.

“Proof,” he declared grandiosely as he hopped back into the driver’s seat, “of a successful transaction, and the fact that all three of us are twenty-thousand creds richer!” He paused. “Actually, two of us are twenty-five grand richer. V only got ten-thousand.”

“Huzzah,” you said.

Felix shrugged, although his shit-eating grin didn’t fade the slightest. “That’s business, baby.”

“Please never call me that again.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

You scoffed, despite not bothering to hide the smile that spread across your lips.

“We need to return to the ship, if our business here is finished,” Locus said curtly, and you flushed with embarrassment. That was certainly… unprofessional.

‘You know what else is unprofessional? Fucking making out with everyone. Stop it,” Zeta whined.

You couldn’t restrain the snort of laughter that escaped your mouth, and Locus glared at you sharply.

You held up your hands defensively, mortified. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear,” you said. “It was Zeta.”

Locus stared you down a moment longer and you waited apprehensively for his reaction.

After a few moments he turned his gaze away from you, closing his eyes and leaning back in his seat. A relieved sigh whooshed out of your chest.

Felix glanced between the two of you, eyebrows raised and bemused.

“... _Right_ ,” he said slowly, drawing out the word for at least three seconds longer than he needed to. “If whatever that was is done…?”

“Quite,” you said.

Felix squinted at you before huffing, irritation clear. “Fine,” he pouted petulantly, “don’t tell me anything. I didn’t want to know anyway.”

And then he slammed the gas and gave you whiplash.

‘ _Fucker_.’

* * *

The trip to the docks was quiet and uneventful, with Felix steadfastly ignoring you and Locus sulking in the backseat.

Felix ditched the van in the parking lot (“Wasn’t that a rental?” you asked him teasingly) and the three of you made your way back to the shuttle.

Felix’s amiable chatter started up again on ride back up, apparently having forgiven you for your perceived slight- or at least satisfied with his revenge in the car.

You kicked off your heels, letting them dangle in your fingers by the straps and groaning in relief as you practically fell into your seat. Felix’s rambling was a comforting, familiar noise in your ears, and you half-listened as you leaned back, eyes slowly drooping shut and barely noticing as Felix settled in next to you and Locus across from you.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Locus said, his low voice jolting you out of your half-asleep state. “We are almost to the ship.”

You grumbled your assent, drawing yourself a bit more upright and pointedly ignoring his cross, judgemental gaze.

Felix nudged you with his elbow, leaning over. “Whatever you did to him’s got his panties in a twist,” he whispered conspiratorially. “He’s even more broody than normal.”

“I didn’t do anything to him!” you squeaked, your voice rising incriminatingly.

Felix huffed. “ _Sure_ ,” he said, disbelievingly, but left it at that.

You struggled to fight off your drowsiness for the rest of the admittedly short trip, often catching yourself drooping forward and forcing yourself awake again.

You could have cried tears of joy when the shuttle docked in the hangar of the Andromeda, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a cocoon of blankets and sleep.

Felix tapped your shoulder and you jumped of the shuttle and you turned to face him, a whine rising in the back of your throat as he impeded your path to your room and, subsequently, your bed.

Felix raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and Locus.

You stared back, bemused, and looked at Locus.

You paled abruptly and _oh boy_ were you awake now.

You hadn’t seen it in the dim lighting of the club and even the meager lights of the shuttle, but under the bright fluorescents of the ship, you could see it very clearly. There was a smear of red across Locus’ mouth, another along his jaw, and the very suddenly _blindingly obvious_ hickey just above his collar.

 _Fuck_ , Locus hadn’t noticed it yet either.

You jogged over to him, nearly stumbling in your haste and almost dropping your heels, and tugged at his arm.

“We need to go, right now, _immediately_ ,” you whispered.

He furrowed his brow and opened his mouth- your eyes reflexively flickered down to the smear of lipstick- and yanked at his arm more urgently.

“Come _on_ ,” you hissed before he could say anything. You pulled him out of the hangar and dragged him along the hallway, trying to lead him to the showers. He complied surprisingly easily, despite the oddity of your actions.

‘He’s getting used to your shenanigans,’ Zeta commented jokingly.

You practically dragged Locus into the shower room, pointedly ignoring Zeta, and shoved your kind-of-boss in front of the sink.

“What are you _doing_ -?” he said exasperatedly, glancing up at the mirror over the sink-

-and froze.

You saw the realization dawn over his face and the flush that formed on his nice, high cheekbones. His hand flew to his collar and covered the bruise that had formed and the other one rose to try to wipe away the stain of color across his mouth.

“Let me,” you said, “you're just making it worse.”

You plucked the handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his suit and wet it under the sink, then reached up to tilt his head to the side and wipe the lipstick off his mouth.

Locus- what he did wasn’t quite a flinch. He jolted a little, and you saw his fingers twitch minutely. You paused, but when he didn’t stop you, you glanced up at him before continuing.

You frowned a little and the color remained stubborn on his lips. For something that had come off _you_ so easily, it was rather difficult to get of _him_.

Locus shifted. “There is a scar,” he said suddenly, “across your chest. It's… uncommon.”

You blinked, pausing in your ministrations. He was right, of course- the edge of it peeked out from the neckline of your dress, barely visible beneath the gauzy material. And, you remembered, he had seen it that first day on board, when you had changed in his room.

 _God_ , that felt like a lifetime ago. It was impossible to think it had only been a week.

“It was from a Covenant energy blade,” you replied, not meeting his eyes. You resumed your methodical cleaning, moving to the red smudged on his jaw. “I was careless. Got stuck in medical for a week. It sucked.”

‘ _But Monty had it worse_.’

“...I see,” Locus said slowly.

You glanced up at him. “You fought in the Great War, too, didn't you?” you asked. “You and Felix.”

“...Yes.”

“Figured,” you snorted. “Only a military man keeps _The Art of War_ in their room.”

He let out a soft, quiet exhale, somewhere between a noise of assent and a huff of exasperation.

You ran the cloth down his neck, cautious with your movements. Locus stood stock still beneath your hands.

You finished quickly, but you couldn't fight the urge to linger, gently resting your hand along the curve of his jaw.

“I haven't had a panic attack in months,” you said, focusing on his mouth. “Over a year, I think. The one in locker was my first in a long time.”

Locus was looking at you; you wouldn't- _couldn't_ meet his eyes, but you could feel his heavy gaze.

You pulled your hand away. Locus grabbed your wrist. His hands were massive compared to yours.

As if realizing what he had done, he let go quickly, hand fisting at his side.

He scrutinized you for a few more moments and you continued to stalwartly avoid his gaze.

As the silence neared unbearableness and just before you were tempted to simply leave and hide in your room, it was Locus, shockingly, who broke the quiet.

“After the war, Felix and I worked as bounty hunters on Earth,” he said. “We had trouble reapdapting to civilian life. An old member from our unit convinced to join him.”

Your attention snapped back to him. You didn't know a thing about either of their lives, and Locus in particular seemed to be especially secretive and private. Yet here he was, freely mentioning his past.

“We turned criminals in,” he continued. “Murderers, gang leaders. We helped the city.” He paused, eyes troubled.

“Then what?” you asked.

He was quiet for a moment. “That is for another time,” he answered finally. “For now, you know we're here. That should be answer enough.”

He absentmindedly adjusted the collar of his shirt- you couldn’t help but notice how his fingers lingered over the bruise that had formed there.

You swallowed thickly and looked away.

“Nice suit,” you said. “I didn’t think you owned anything other than armor.” It was an admittedly weak attempt to lighten the mood, but Locus didn’t seem to fault you.

“It’s old,” Locus replied. “It’s… useful, for missions such as these.”

He tugged at the cuffs with a gloved hand, fixing them them with an unfamiliar gentleness, sentimentality written in every motion.

‘It’s important’ went unsaid.

It was so odd to see Locus so open, you thought. You didn't think he was capable of it.

You hand went up to trace the edges of the twin half-healed scars on your shoulder. One of them from your first meeting with Felix, and the other from saving his life.

You could name every scar, recount every story behind every blemish on your skin with stunning clarity. Every weapon used to cause them, every mistake you made to deserve them.

Sentimental, indeed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tensioooooon

Locus excused himself a few moments later, leaving you alone in the shower room, still holding his stained handkerchief.

You sighed gustily, pressing a hand against your temple.

You pulled your hair out of its loose, messy bun and ran a finger across your lips, contemplating the smear of red that came off.

You groaned, filled with the sinking, dreadful feeling that you had somehow fucked up.

Grabbing a towel and sidling into one of the stalls, you stripped off the dress and dropped it in a heap on the floor alongside your heels, handkerchief left forgotten in the bundle, and turned the water up to scalding. Steam filled the air as you scrubbed the day’s worth of sweat and grime from your skin and hair, the pressure of the water soothing against your back.

You heard the door the shower room open, promptly followed by the sound of what was undoubtedly someone stubbing their toe and a string of irritated, familiar profanities.

“Hey V, you in here?” Felix called. “I saw Locus go down the hall.”

“Showering,” you answered.

He snickered. “Got room for one more?” he said, and you could picture his shit-eating smirk perfectly. “Could make Maui fifty creds richer while we’re at it.”

You snorted loudly, and it was just a moment later before you broke down into laughter, leaning against the wall as water poured over your head and shoulders.

“You know, I wonder if I should be offended,” Felix commented, prompting a fresh round of giggles from you, and he finally joined in, snickering at his own cleverness.

There was a rustle of cloth and you heard him wander into the stall next to yours, the squeak of the faucet, and the spray of water as it turned on.

“Sooo,” Felix drawled, “you and Locus, huh?”

‘ _Oh no_.’

‘Serves you right,’ Zeta said snidely.

“There was an armed patrol,” you said. “We needed a distraction.”

“Someone was _distracted_ all right,” Felix said.

You groaned. “Can we not talk about this?” you said. “Specifically, not when we’re both taking showers in, like, separate stalls.”

“My offer to join me still stands,” he said helpfully.

You snorted. “I should have let them shoot you on that stupid pirate ship,” you muttered.

Felix let out a mock-pained gasp. “That’s cold, V,” he said with exaggerated solemnity. “Stone cold.”

You rolled your eyes with fond exasperation, even though he couldn’t see you. “You’ll live,” you told him.

“Yeah, but it _hurts_.”

You let out a soft huff of laughter, a grin tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Thankfully, Felix seemed content dropping the subject of you and Locus (for now), and the two of you finished your showers quickly, filling the silence with idle chatter. Your earlier tiredness was beginning to seep back in, and you yawned widely as you turned off the water.

“Just so you know,” Felix said as the steam died down and you dried off in the privacy of your stall, “since I’m such a wonderful, caring guy who knows you so well, I brought you a change of clothes.”

As he spoke, he draped a set of civvies over the divider- you pointedly noticed the fact that the set included underwear.

“Wow,” you said dryly. “Thank you so much for your consideration. I am _so_ honored.”

Felix’s laughter rang out brightly, and you shimmied into your fresh clothes and okay maybe you were grateful that you didn’t have to get back into your sweaty, clingy dress.

Still.

Finally warm and clean and comfortably dressed, it didn’t take your sleepiness to hit you again in full force, and you stumbled out of the stall blearily, clutching your bundle of clothes and shoes to your chest.

Felix was sitting one of the benches in between the aisles of lockers, and you slumped down next him, carelessly towelling off your hair. Belatedly, you noticed he was shirtless, revealing a sharp, geometric tattoo that ran just below the right side of his chest. Your eyes flickered down to the lean lines of his hipbones and _wow_ those sweatpants were riding awfully low on his hips.

“Christ,” he said, “you look awful.”

You groaned, ogling thoroughly interrupted. “Look,” you said, “I just finished a job literally hours after an emotional turmoil in which I was quite realistically wondering if you were just going to kill me and throw my body out of the airlock, and now I’ve made out with both you _and_ Locus and I’m still not entirely that you’re not going to just kill me and throw my body out the airlock, and also I haven’t seen my partner in a whole week because he was hospitalized in a Pelican crash because of you two-” you heaved a huge breath, ignoring Felix’s raised eyebrow- “so, yeah, I’m fucking _exhausted_.”

Your eyes threatened to droop shut again, and you blinked rapidly in an attempt to stave off your drowsiness and still look cross.

You’re pretty sure you managed to look like a particularly put out puppy.

“Okay,” Felix said, “since I think you’ll pass out if you try to make it back to your room by yourself-” he stood, and you squinted at him blearily- “I guess I’m gonna have to help you out. If only so I can lord this over your head tomorrow morning.”

You let out a confused, tired, “Whuh-?” when suddenly Felix was scooping you up into his arms.

You yelped, arms looping around his neck as he lifted you up with surprising ease. Apparently Felix was stronger than he his slenderness belied, and he flashed you a charming smile as he adjusted his grip so he was carrying you bridal style.

You flushed brightly.

‘You’re a fucking wreck,’ Zeta droned dryly, and you shushed him indignantly.

“This is absolutely unnecessary,” you told Felix.

“But it's _fun_ ,” he pointed out, grinning.

“Only for you,” you grumbled, feeling stable enough in his grasp to let go and cross your arms over your chest petulantly.

Felix laughed and bounced you in his arms, and you squeaked and grabbed his shoulder, burying your face in the juncture of his neck.

He smelled… nice. Clean, mostly, like the plain soap in the showers, but there was something else- something soft and natural.

You blinked, pulling yourself back to reality as you realized that Felix was very warm. And still very, _very_ shirtless.

Felix strode out into the hall, completely shameless.

“Felix!” you hissed. “What if someone sees us?”

“Eh,” he said, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I thought you said Locus doesn’t like rumors!”

“There’s literally a betting pool on how soon we’re gonna fuck,” Felix said dryly. “Rumors are the least of our worries.”

You groaned, leaning your head on his shoulder, thoroughly exhausted by every goddamn shenanigan that had occurred since you first kissed Felix.

“You’re ridiculous and I hate you,” you mumbled against his collar, and whatever witty riposte he had planned was lost as you finally fell asleep.

\---

You woke up surprisingly spry and well-rested at six-thirty sharp.

You stretched and hopped out of bed with a perky greeting to your AI partner, who was sulking in the back of your mind.

“Stop pouting,” you told him as you changed.

Zeta flickered to life on your bed. “I’m not pouting,” he said, arms crossed and absolutely pouting.

You sighed. “Alright. Then why, exactly, are you not pouting?”

“You and Felix are acting all lovey-dovey,” Zeta complained.”It’s weird.”

You scoffed. “We’re not lovey-dovey,” you denied.

He threw his hands in the air. “He _carried_ you to bed!” he exclaimed. 

“And I have no doubt he’s going to make fun of me for it the next time I see him,” you retorted. “It’s not like I think I’m in love. I fully aware of what he thinks of me.”

“As long as you’re careful,” Zeta grumbled before blinking out of sight.

You sighed at his concerns and picked through the bundle of dress and shoes that had been dropped at the foot of your bed, spreading out the dress and setting the heels aside. You blinked as Locus’ handkerchief fell out, fluttering to the ground.

You picked it up and turned it over in your hands, thinking that you should, at some point, wash and returned, but a flash of color caught your eye. There was, predictably enough, a smear of red on green cloth, but as you raised it to look more closely, you could see a faint smudge of brown- makeup of some sort, you realized, and a shade remarkable close to Locus’ skin color.

Deliberating your new discovery, you pocketed the handkerchief and wandered out to the mess hall to grab something for breakfast, achingly hungry when your body remembered you hadn’t eaten anything since before your mission the previous night.

You grabbed a tray from the mess sergeant noticed Maui waving you over jollily from one of the table, Shirogane next to her and looking far less perky.

“So where’s the little guy?” Maui asked cheerfully as you seated yourself across from her.

You blinked. “Little guy…?” you echoed at the same time you noticed that Shirogane wasn’t just less perky than Maui- he was straight up asleep, head resting on his arms as he dozed.

“Y’know, yay high-” Maui extended her thumb and index finger- “all glowy and shit. Got pissed when the doc tried to cover you in iodine.”

“I’m right here,” Zeta grumbled, popping up at your shoulder, arms crossed. “And I’m not _that_ glowy.”

Maui brightened. “There he is!” she cheered. “So, little glowy guy-”

“ _Zeta_.”

“Zeta,” Maui said, “you’d say you know V the best out of anyone in the whole world, right?”

You eyed her warily.

“Of course,” Zeta snorted. “I live in her head. Honestly, I’d say I know too much.”

If Maui’s grin had lumens, she would have blinded everyone in the room.

“ _Sooo_ ,” she said, drawing out the word for a good three seconds, “what would you say are the chances of V hooking up with Felix sometime soon?”

“Very high,” Zeta said flatly.

You sputtered. “What-?! _Zeta_!”

Maui whooped, throwing a fist into the air. “Victory is near, and it smells so sweet!”

You pointed at her. “First of all, _no_ ,” you told her. “Zeta is a big, fat liar and I swear to god I’ll never have sex again just to spite you.”

Shirogane, apparently disturbed from his slumber, squinted up at you. “What?”

“Go back to sleep,” Maui said flippantly. Then she leaned over to whisper to you conspiratorially, “I kept him up all night playing video games. He finally passed out at three in the morning.”

Shirogane mumbled something incomprehensible, voice muffled from how he covered his head with his arms.

“Don’t be a baby,” Maui said, ruffling his hair. “It was only twenty-one hours.”

Relieved at the change of conversation, you snickered at their antics as you ate, reveling in the easy camaraderie you fell into with them. It was nice. Simple.

It reminded you of home.

Maui blinked, surprised, squinting at the entrance. “Huh,” she said, “look who it is.”

You tilted your head, turning around to see who had caught her attention- and sure enough, Felix sauntered in, relaxed and casual.

“Would now be a good time to mention that I saw Felix princess-carry you back to your room?” Maui wondered aloud, and you choked.

“What?!”

“Mornin’ V,” Felix said as he approached, suspiciously cheerful.

“...Hello,” you said cautiously,

“Sleep well?” he asked, full of wide-eyed innocence.

Maui snickered and Felix reached over the table for a fist bump.

You stared at them. “You guys are plotting something,” you declared, “and I never, under any circumstances, ever want to find out what.”

“Serves you right,” Zeta snorted, and disappeared before you could fire off a retort.

You sighed heavily, crossing your arms and sending Felix a baleful glare. “You suck,” you informed him frankly.

“I can do more than that,” he quipped, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, and you groaned loudly, slumping forward, defeated.

“I _so_ want to punch right now,” you groused.

Then you paused, tilting your head considerately.

“Is the training room free?” you asked him, grinning crookedly.

Felix paused for a moment, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. A smirk tugged at his mouth. “Fuck yeah.”

\---

You remembered the training room- the floor covered with mats, the room above that overlooked it, and, you thought fondly, where you had first seen Maui and Shirogane.

‘And where you bled out and fainted like a little bitch,’ Zeta chirped helpfully.

You rolled your eyes as Zeta snickered.

You took your place just across from Felix, stretching as you settled into a comfortable ready stance.

He paused for a moment, looking you over, and you saw his gaze settle at your shoulder, where the thin straps of your tank top bared your scars.

“You sure you’re good?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you said reassuringly, rolling your shoulder exaggeratedly. “See? No pain.”

It was mostly true- there was barely any stiffness in your shoulder and it only hurt if you applied significant pressure, which basically meant you were fine.

Probably.

Felix let out a little huff. “If you’re sure,” he said.

You bounced lightly on the balls of your feet, cocking your head. “The loser yields,” you decided. “Nothing but hand-to-hand.”

“Sounds good,” he grinned. “Ready?”

“Ready,” you confirmed, and rushed him.

He was ready for you and neatly weaved around your first punch, ducking down and striking at your legs with a low, sweeping kick.

You skipped out of range, eyes narrowed, and darted back in before Felix was entirely back on his feet, tackling him and sending him into the ground.

The two of you grappled, rolling around on the mats as each of your tried to gain the upper hand. You bared your teeth, half snarling, half smiling.

At one point, you were pressed flush against Felix’s back as you attempted to twist his arms behind him, leg hooked around his ankles and your mouth level with the junction of his neck and shoulder. You paused for a second, taking a tentative breath in. Something spicy-smelling prickled the back of your throat.

“Are you wearing _cologne_?”

Your momentary distraction gave him enough slack to buck you off, and you rolled off lightly, bouncing back up onto the balls of your feet.

Felix sprung back quickly, and then you were back at it again, launching blow after blow in an attempt to wear the other out.

You settled into an easy rhythm as you sparred, well-used to Felix’s fighting by now. Beads of sweat formed at Felix’s brow, and his tempo faltered for a moment as he wiped it away from his eyes- and that’s when you struck.

You swept his feet out from under him and he landed on his back heavily, grunting as he hit the floor.

“ _Yield_ ,” you snarled, pinning him to the ground. You had your forearm pressed against his throat, the other hand restraining his arms above his head by his wrists, and you your knee was digging into his stomach viciously. Your face was close enough that your flyaway strands of hair brushed against his cheeks and you could feel the heat emanating from his skin.

He struggled in your grip for a moment before falling limp. “I- I yield,” he rasped. His pupils were blown wide, a flush high on his cheeks and looking rather dazed and-

 _Oh_.

It took you a moment to regain your composure and actually release him, embarrassingly enough, although Felix certainly seemed distracted enough not to notice.

You backed up a step as Felix got back up to his feet, stalwartly looking anywhere but at him.

God, you hadn’t just imagined that, had you?

You risked a peek at him.

He was staring blankly off into the distance, absentmindedly running his fingers over his neck, faintly red where you had pressed into it.

Holy _shit_.

In the back of your mind, Zeta was screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys  
> GUYS  
> we're at like 40k words??? i never expected this fic to get the support and love that it did and i wanted you all to know that i never would have written this much without all the love that i got from you  
> thank you so much!


	14. Chapter 14

You cleared your throat awkwardly. “You good?” you asked him.

Felix blinked, and your words seemed to jerk him back to the present. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, still a little breathless and rubbing his throat ruefully. “I’ll admit, you got me good.”

“That's… good,” you said slowly, sinking into your cool down stretches. Your shoulder and stomach ached slightly, but a brief check revealed no blood and Zeta grudgingly assured you that your vitals were fine.

Felix made an acknowledging noise and followed suit, rolling his shoulders and stretching, long and languid.

You sighed as you made a mental note to at least rinse off later- sweaty and disheveled as you were, you were in no way presentable in even a casual setting, much less a mercenary ship.

You pulled up the hem of your shirt to wipe your face clean of sweat, exposing the mottled scars across your torso. Felix followed the motion with his eyes, gaze settling on your stomach. You half expected to see a grimace cross his face, or even just controlled neutrality- but his expression was… appreciative.

You had long since accepted your scars. There was no around them- came with the job, but you you knew that they were off putting to most people.

Apparently not Felix.

“I still owe you,” he said suddenly, “for saving my life and all that.”

”You saved mine, too,” you pointed out.

Felix waved it off. “It’s different, though,” he said. “Debt’s not paid ‘til I get shot for you.”

“Please don’t,” you muttered.

He laughed, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it. A couple strands stuck out like an antennae, and the sight made you snicker.

Felix squinted at you suspiciously. “What?”

You stifled another laugh, raising your finger and lifting it to the crown of your head, wagging it.

Felix grimaced and smoothed it over with an open palm and you pouted.

“I thought it was cute,” you teased, and Felix snorted, running a hand over his hair one more time for good measure.

You sat on the ground, legs stretched out and leaning back on your hands. “Any new jobs for us soon?” you asked.

He made a noncommittal noise, settling down beside you. “Dunno,” he replied. “I mean, we’re making that side trip to pick up your pilot friend right now-”

“Wait, what? Really?” you said. “When did you guys did you guys decide this?”

“Locus told me this morning,” he said. “We’ll probably get there by tomorrow.”

You let out a breathless huff of laughter and leaned over to kiss him.

Felix paused for a second, startled, before he grinned against your lips and kissed back,

“Huh,” he said when you finally broke apart, “I should do you favors more often, if that’s how you repay me.”

“There’s more where that came from,” you said playfully, laughing when Felix ducked back in for another quick kiss.

You hummed happily, smiling when you pulled back. You liked Felix- quite a bit, actually- and it was hard to wrap your head around the events that had led you to this moment.

Felix let out a gusty sigh as he hauled himself back up, offering you a hand.

“I’m gonna go wash up and head to the bridge,” he said, pulling you up. “Locus’ll pitch a hissy fit it I’m late for my shift.”

You made an acknowledging noise, calling, “See ya, Casanova,” as he strode away.

Zeta popped up as soon as he turned the corner to the stairs. “You’re awful,” he complained.

You snorted. “You’d think you’d be used to it by-” you cut off abruptly as a flash of gray and green caught your eye above you, in the observation deck, and you looked up more carefully.

Nothing.

“V?” Zeta asked, concerned.

“I just… thought I saw something,” you said. “Up there.”

“Was it Felix?” Zeta questioned.

As he spoke, Felix exited the stairs and passed by the window, catching your gaze and flicking your a casual two-fingered salute.

“Huh,” Zeta said. “I guess not.”

“It was probably nothing,” you amended, but you couldn’t help but glance up one more time.

\---

By the time you collected yourself and made it to the showers, Felix was long gone.

The anticipation of seeing Whiskey again made you buzz with excitement, and you forgot about the incident quickly.

“It feels like it's been forever,” you told Zeta, flopping down on you bed, clean and fresh.

“It's been, like, a week and a half.”

“ _Forever_.”

Zeta snorted, lounging lazily on your pillow. “You’ll be wishing it was forever when he starts back up with his shitty jokes again.”

Your gaze fell on your neglected armor and you felt a pang of guilt. You hadn't maintained it properly since before you had even set foot on Locus and Felix’s ship.

You reached over and hauled the chestplate onto your lap, running your hands along the surface to check for imperfections.

It was clean of blood- someone had probably thrown it into processing and ran through pressure washing to clean it of grit before returning it to your room, but there were various scuffs that you should buff off.

Belatedly, you realized you didn't have a maintenance kit, and you set your armor at the foot of your bed with a disappointed sigh.

“You plan anything for today?” Zeta asked.

“Maybe I’ll head to the weight room or something,” you replied. “I dunno. I don’t really have a place here yet.”

“No lifting without a spotter,” Zeta warned, and you huffed.

“Fine. I’ll wander around and annoy people.”

You put on your armor carefully, methodically, tying back your hair loosely so it would fit neatly in your helmet.

You trot out the door, Zeta hovering over your shoulder, no destination in mind.

You hoped you ran into Maui so you could ask her to spot you. Or maybe Locus.

Actually, maybe not Locus, you amended. That would be… awkward.

You frowned, a bit uncomfortable. You didn’t have anything to do. You felt useless. Purposeless, if you were being dramatic.

“You’re fine,” Zeta said, sensing your unease. “I’m sure Locus will assign you a proper position on the ship soon enough, hardass that he is.”

You grinned crookedly, absent-mindedly pulling up a map on your HUD.

The map outlined the layout of the ship, neatly labelled and sprawling over all four levels. There were a quite few unlabelled rooms that piqued your interest, but despite your bravado you weren’t confident enough to go snooping around quite yet.

A handful of people passed by you in the halls, noses buried in datapads or walking with purpose to one destination or another, and Zeta flickered out of sight to avoid attention. You were feeling increasingly out of place. It was a stark reminder that you may have made a place here, but you weren’t really a part of it.

You could recognize and name a grand total of five crew members, and there were at least sixty. You had no idea how the schedule was run other than meal times, and your bunk wasn’t even in the barracks with the others.

You blinked, pulling yourself out of your pity party. Your wandering had carried you to an unfamiliar section of the ship, somewhere you hadn’t set foot in before.

“Uh,” you said. “Zeta, where are we?”

“I dunno,” he replied. “I wasn’t paying attention either.”

 

You wished you weren’t wearing your helmet so you could massage your temples. “Damnit,” you groaned. You really didn’t want to be lost right now.

“Okay, you know what? We’re fine,” you said. “All we have to do is… turn around.”

You turned heel and stared. There was a four-way intersection.

“Maybe not,” Zeta added unhelpfully.

You squinted at your HUD, scrutinizing the map intensely. It was all uniform corridors that branched off into other, equally uniform corridors, and there were at least ten different points with intersections like the one in front of you.  
.  
“This is some real bullshit,” you commented.

“I firmly believe that this is entirely your fault,” Zeta said. “As most things are.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “It’s not that big a deal,” you said. “Look, I’ll just ask next person we see for directions back to the mess hall. Boom. Easy peasy.”

“Lemon squeezy,” Zeta finished flatly. “You’re still the worst.”

You scoffed despite the grin that tugged at your lips, leaning against the wall comfortably.

You struck up idle chatter with Zeta as you waited, joking and teasing and coming up with pranks to play on Whiskey when he finally got back.

“I was thinking,” Zeta said, “we try and get Gardner to dig some shit out of the trash and tell Whiskey that it’s the ‘regular,’ make him think it’s worse than what they fed you in basic.”

You snorted. “We could egg him,” you suggested, “like they do in the navy for first time Meridian crossers. Call it ‘tradition.’ Maui would probably be on board-”

“You will refrain from egging people on my ship.”

You jolted, whirling around to face Locus. He stood, arms crossed and practically radiating disapproval.

“...Okay,” you agreed weakly.

“How’s the hickey?” Zeta said snidely, and you sputtered. Locus’ hand flew up to his neck, covered as it was by his suit.

“Zeta!” you hissed.

He sniffed haughtily and flickered away, and you clasped your hands together at your mouth and took a deep breath.

“I am _so_ sorry,” you told Locus, flustered and red-faced.

He sighed through his nose. “What are you doing here,” he said, sounding rather tired.

You flushed brighter, suddenly very thankful for your helmet. “I- ah- got… lost?”

Locus stared at you flatly. “Lost.”

“Yes?”

His helmet tipped up slightly and you could picture his expression, exasperated and maybe a little baffled.

And you had a face to match to it, at that.

“Where did you need to go?” he asked, voice filled with such exhausted resignation that you almost felt bad.

“I… was actually hoping I could talk to you,” you said.

He tilted his head questioningly.

You shifted uncomfortably. “What can I do around here?”

He paused. “Elaborate.”

“What can I do?” you repeated, searching for the words. “Other than… milling around and making a nuisance of myself.”

He gave you a once over, observing you clinically.

“Most positions are filled by professionals,” he said. “Engineers, medical staff, maintenance workers. At the moment, you are technically a reserve soldier. Your only responsibility is to be available and fit for duty when necessary.”

You made a frustrated sound in the back of your throat, frown deepening.

“Once your pilot arrives, I will likely assign you a more permanent station,” Locus said. “For now, you may shadow another soldier, should you find the need.”

“...Okay,” you said. It wasn’t the answer you were hoping for, but it was a start. “How long until we get there?”

“Eighteen hours,” he replied. “Do what you like to occupy yourself, so long as it’s not disruptive.”

He started to walk away, and you fell in step beside him. He tilted his head, glancing at you questioningly.

“I’m- uh- I’m still lost,” you said.

He sighed.

\----

Locus dropped you off at the mess hall with a disapproving stare you and you thanked him, equal parts thankful and embarrassed.

There was a trickle of people in the cafeteria as it approached lunchtime, and you stayed to the side by yourself, searching for Maui among the crowd and intending to ask her if you could shadow her for the day.

‘You could just ask someone else,’ Zeta snarked. ‘Make some new friends.’

Just the mention of trying to talk to someone new made your social anxiety shoot through the roof and you restrained a shudder of disgust.

Zeta laughed at you, and you scowled under your helmet, crossing your arms defensively.

“V?” 

You jerked to attention, glancing up. Shirogane was standing in front of you. You straightened hastily.

“Hey,” you said awkwardly. “Where’s Maui?”

“...She’s busy helping someone in engineering,” he answered. “Did you need her for something?:

“N-nothing in particular,” you said, resisting the urge to shuffle your feet. It was horrifically awkward talking to Shirogane. “I was just hoping I could shadow her for today.”

He squinted. “Shadow?”

“Locus suggested it?” you said, sounding more like a question than a statement.

He gave you a perfunctory once-over, frowning.

You grimaced. It was so awkward. “Is there somewhere I can do armor maintenance?” you asked.

His frown deepened. “You mean… the armory?”

You inhaled deeply. “Yes,” you said.

Shirogane stared at you for a moment more and you wished that you would sink into the ground and disappear into the void.

“I was going to go myself,” he said finally. “You are… welcome to join me.

You blinked. An invitation?

“Sure,” you said.

He nodded shortly and gestured for you to follow, making his out of the mess hall.

He led you to the armory- a comfortable large room, guns lined up neatly on the walls and racks of armor hanging from stands- and settled at one of the work benches. Tins of wax and oil and stacks of wool buffing pads were scattered across the table, and you watched him methodically remove his armor and lay it out in pieces on the table.

You mirrored his actions, sitting at a bench of your own and stripping off your armor down to your undersuit.

Shirogane worked steadily, applying a thin coat of wax to the surface of his armor before buffing it with a wool pad. Each piece was meticulously cared for and set aside gingerly, a neat stack forming on the bench.

Your eyes followed the lines of his scars, dozens of them crisscrossing across his arms, pale and silvery against his tan skin. A sharp ‘x’ was scored across his cheek, another on the back of his hand, and several more, jagged and deep, marred the skin of his shoulders and biceps.

It took you a moment to realize that Shirogane was staring back.

“Ah- I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it,” he said.

You frowned, brows creasing. “I’m sorry,” you said again.

Shirogane caught your gaze, pausing in his work. After a moment, he tilted his head in acknowledgement.

“Were you wondering how I got my scars?” he asked, turning his gaze back to his armor.

You hesitated. “Yes,” you admitted. “I haven’t seen any like your’s before.”

“I wouldn’t expect you too,” he replied dryly. “Most people with them are dead by now.”

Your brow furrowed.

He glanced at you briefly. “I was… captured during the war. The Sangheili favor blades in torture.” He ran his fingers over a ‘x’ of pale tissue across his collar, disturbingly close to his throat. “I was there for nineteen days. Maui was part of the team that discovered me. She was gravely injured in the assault, and we ended up sharing a room in the infirmary. After that, we were inseparable.”

His voice grew soft towards the end of his tale, a smile faint on his lips.

You tilted your head questioningly. “You and Maui…” you said slowly.

Shirogane laughed quietly. “No, not romantically. That’s not her style. But partners.”

You were quiet for a moment. “I’m… glad,” you said finally, “that you found someone you could trust. Something like that is hard to find.”

He paused, glancing up at you with surprise, and let out a soft huff of laughter. “I know,” he said, eyes warm, “and by God am I grateful for every day that I’m with her.”

After that, the two of you lapsed into a calm silence, working comfortably. You attended to your armor almost religiously, working over each scuff and blemish.

“I’m sorry that I judged you so quickly.”

You blinked, surprised that he had broken the silence. “It’s nothing,” you assured him.

“It’s not,” he said. “It was hypocritical and uncalled for.”

You tilted your head, confused, and waited for him to continue.

“You… wouldn’t know yet, but most of us are running from something. Former pirates, military deserters. Locus and Felix have a knack for picking up oddities.” He paused. “Everyone is hiding something. I shouldn’t have singled you out.”

“Birds of a feather,” you quipped lightly, smiling. “Shirogane, I’m not holding that against you.”

He hesitated. “I just… I’m sorry.” His hands were restless, flexing and curling into fists in turn.

“And I forgive you,” you said. “Besides, I don’t think Maui would like it if we kept fighting.”

Shirogane let out a quiet laugh. “No,” he said, “I suppose not.”

\---

Shirogane finished a few minutes before you did, nodding at you with something approaching a smile before he left.

As you replaced your armor, freshly buffed and almost gleaming, Zeta popped up at your shoulder.

“What’s up?” you asked.

“Felix pinged you,” he replied crossly. “He wants to meet in-” he paused, shuddering- “his _room_.” Another pause. “He also says you don’t need your armor.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is it a sex thing or a work thing?”

“About Whiskey, I think.”

You rolled your eyes. Zeta could be so dramatic.

You trot out of the armory, pulling up a map on your HUD, determined to not get fucking lost this time and not trusting Zeta to lead you to the wrong place out of spite.

You stopped by your room to drop off your armor and change into civvies before heading to Felix’s room, pensively mulling over what you knew of Whiskey’s situation. What would Felix need to talk to you about? You vaguely noticed Zeta go offline, reducing himself to a low buzz in the recesses of your mind.

You rapped on Felix’s door twice, and you heard a muffled, ‘come in’ from the other side.

Felix was seated in a chair, dressed in a tank and sweats with his back turned to the desk and legs stretched out. There was a datapad in his hand, and he frowned as he scrolled down the screen.

“Are you comfortable with your pilot being assigned to different squads?” he asked without preamble.

“Um,” you said. “Yes?”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “Locus is making me do fucking squad assignments for the next month and we’re short on Pelican pilots,” he scowled.

“You guys plan that far ahead?” you asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“It’s fucking _awful_ ,” he said. “Normally he does them, but apparently he’s still busy sorting out the Hargrove thing so I have to pick up the slack.”

Suddenly, he sat up a little straighter. “Actually,” he said, “next week we have another job coming up. Just you, me, and Locus again. Expect fighting.”

“Fun,” you said dryly. “Another bounty?”

“Nah,” he said. “Something else. Retrieval, I think? Still working out some of the details, but you’ll have that to look forward to.”

You hummed, leaning forward and resting your chin in your hand. “Was that all?”

“Basically, yeah,” he said. With irritated huff, he tossed the datapad on the desk and covered his face with his hands. “I fucking hate this,” he mumbled. “Planning and shit.”

“What do you normally do?” you questioned, grinning at his antics.

“Handle stuff on the field, mostly,” he grumbled. “Negotiations and face-to-faces, too, if we need ‘em. Locus usually handles paperwork.”

“How terrible,” you deadpanned, and Felix glared at you.

He hauled himself out of his seat and practically flung himself onto the bed- you ducked to avoid an errant limb and scooted out of the way as he sprawled out.

He rolled lazily onto his side, propping his head up with a hand and smirking.

“Since you’re already here…” he said, trailing off.

You shot him an exasperated look, and he grinned back crookedly.

You glanced at the clock on the desk. “My curfew is in fifteen minutes.”

“Your fucking curfew-?” Felix sputtered. “What the fuck?”

You laughed at that and tugged him in for a kiss.

He leaned over, arms braced on either side of your head, and leaned in. You cupped his cheek with one hand and tangled your fingers in his hair with the other.

Felix pressed a kiss to your jaw, and you hummed appreciatively, tilting your head back.

He trailed lower, down to your collar, and you could feel the flutter of his breath against your skin.

“Where’s this from?” he murmured, lips brushing against the edge of the scar that peeked out from under the neckline of your shirt.

Vividly, you remembered talking to Locus. ' _There is a scar across your chest. It is… uncommon_.'

“A Covenant energy blade,” you said, willing yourself back to the present- not difficult, given your company.

He made a sympathetic sound, drifting to your side and pausing at your shoulder, twin half-healed scars marring the skin.

“I’m sure you know where those are from,” you said dryly, and Felix pressed his lips against them gently, as close to an apology you would get from him.

His hands drifted down, fingers playing with the strip of skin between the hem of your shirt and the the band of your pants. He ran his thumb over the speckled scars thoughtfully, humming appreciatively against your skin.

Pulling back slightly, he hovered questioningly over a long, narrow scar that ran along the outside of your shoulder.

“Grazed by a sniper,” you answered, lifting your shirt to reveal another, small and neat, just below your ribs. “Didn’t miss the second time, unfortunately.”

His hand skimmed over your belly as he leaned over for another kiss, slow and languid. One of your hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, settling at the curve of his waist.

“You can stay the night if you want,” Felix said with a crooked smile.

Your fingers brushed against the bottom of his ribs. “I think,” you murmured, “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

\---

The next morning you strolled into the mess hall and slid into your seat across from Maui.

You smiled brightly at her.

“I want a cut of fifty percent,” you told her.

\---

Halfway across the ship, Locus tilted his head at the sound of Maui’s cheering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm doing a ton of applications rn so felix doing paperwork is the Big Mood  
> also!! made a doodle of [how i typically picture v](https://ask-the-freelancers.tumblr.com/post/166450186915)  
> and also here's this [WIP of an animatic that i'm making](https://ask-the-freelancers.tumblr.com/post/166624575564) with Locus, Felix, and Siris!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huh. almost a two whole seasons since i last updated, huh. short chapter, but hopefully enough to get the ball rolling again!

It took you awhile to calm Maui down (“I need _details_ ,” she said, looking at your rumpled clothes and crooked grin, and Shirogane pointedly covered his ears), and you were well into breakfast before Maui handed you your cash, snickering.

“I don’t even care about the money anymore,” she said, eyes bright and laughing. “God, this is the proudest moment of my life.”

“You need more hobbies,” Shirogane told her.

You pocketed the money with a smirk, witty response at the ready, but the sound of approaching footsteps made you turn.

“We are preparing to dock,” Locus said. “Be ready-”

The words were barely out of his mouth when you bolted upright, grinning madly.

“Give me five minutes,” you said.

—

Five minutes and a hasty armor-up later, you jogged down the ramp, searching the dock for your partner, Felix following more leisurely behind you.

You found him seated at one of the side benches, a hefty duffel bag at his side.

You saw him perk up the moment he noticed you, and Whiskey nearly barrelled you over in his haste, a flurry of excitement.

“V!” he cheered, diving in for a hug. “God, I thought I was going to die here.”

You laughed, a little breathless- partially out of relief of finally seeing him again, and partially because the force of Whiskey’s affection had quite literally knocked the wind right out of you.

“Yeah, yeah, break it up,” Zeta said, arms crossed. “You’re making a scene.”

“Missed you, too, Zeta,” Whiskey said cheerfully.

Zeta grumbled something inaudible.

“What was that?” you said, a shit-eating grin on your face. “Couldn’t hear you, buddy.”

Zeta scowled up at the two of you. “It’s good to have you back,” he muttered begrudgingly.

“You got all your stuff?” you asked, gesturing at his bag, and he nodded.

“Everything I’ve ever owned, in this single bag,” he said dramatically, and you rolled your eyes even as an affectionate smile quirked the corners of your mouth.

“‘Sup,” Felix said, strolling up to the two of you. “You the pilot?”

“That I am,” Whiskey confirmed, disentangling himself from your embrace for the moment. “You must be Felix. V’s told me a lot about you.”

There was a blip on your HUD as Felix pinged you, and you pulled up the message, confused.

‘Bet you didn’t tell him about last night.’

You sputtered, and Whiskey glanced at you oddly for a moment before Felix regained his attention.

“I hope she got you caught up,” he said, “because we’re probably gonna put you to work real soon. Let’s get you settled in, yeah?”

Felix led Whiskey off with a sly grin, and you resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands.

“Wow,” Zeta said. “It’s only the morning after, and he’s already lording it over your head. You just gave him so much ammunition.”

“I hate him,” you decided, wearily starting after them.

\---

You followed Felix and Whiskey as he was settled in the barracks. You wondered if you were going to lose your individual room privilege and get roomed with the others as well- all things considered, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that could’ve happened to you. At least you would be near Whiskey.

You practically interrogated Whiskey on the way there- was he healed enough for active duty? Did everything mend okay? Any concerns that the doctor warned about?

“I’m fine, mom,” he said, waving off your concerns. “I’m in the all clear, promise.”

Whiskey was surprising amenable to working with the same people who had shot him out of the sky. He shrugged when you commented on it.

“You trust them,” he said. “That’s enough for me.”

Zeta snorted. “‘Trust’ is a generous term,” he said sourly.

“Spoilsport,” Whiskey retorted, and you laughed.

You had missed this, you realized with startling clarity. You had missed more than just Whiskey- you missed the easy companionship, the unconditional, unjudging friendship and affection.

You leaned over and ruffled his hair, snickering as he grimaced and bat your hands away.

“It’s good to have you back,” you said, smiling.

Whiskey grinned. “It’s good to be back.”

\--

“So tell me about this job,” you said, lounging around on Felix’s bed. “You said it was retrieval?”

The man in question was sprawled out on the chair by his desk, absentmindedly tapping at a datapad.

“It’s in five days,” he replied. “We’re finding rocks.” He paused, brow furrowing as he read something over.

You stared for a moment. “Rocks,” you repeated flatly.

Felix glanced up at you. “For science.”

You sent him an unamused look and he snorted.

“Some research facility hired us,” he elaborated, setting his datapad aside to look at you. “They were excavating on some jungle planet and had to evacuate because-” he paused, raising his fingers to form air quotes- “‘the local wildlife took egregious offense to their presence.’ Left behind some expensive equipment and rare mineral samples or something.”

“Or something,” you echoed, and he huffed and shot you wry smile.

“Look, sweetheart, I just do what I’m paid to,” he said.

“You a mercenary or a prostitute?” you quipped, then snickered at his responding scoff.

“I’m a _pro_ alright,” Felix threw back, “if last night was anything to go by.”

You laughed again, but couldn’t entirely control the blush that stained your cheeks, and Felix shot you a cheeky, victorious grin.

“Alright hotshot,” you snorted. “You might need to- ah- refresh my memory.”

Felix’s smile took on a hazy, predatory edge.

“ _Oh_ ,” he said, his voice a low, smooth purr, “I’ll be _glad_ to.”

——

You crept out of Felix’s room a few hours later- nighttime by the ship’s artificial twenty-four hour cycle- trying to stay quiet and inconspicuous and doing your damnedest not to run into anyone.

You tried to smooth back your mussed hair, grimacing a little at the scent of sex and sweat that clung to your skin like perfume. Zeta’s presence was absent from your mind, the AI having pulled himself to spare himself the horrors of your interactions.

You vaguely felt like some chastised teen sneaking home after a wild night out, hiding from your parents’ eyes. God forbid you ran into Maui. Or Whiskey. Or worse yet-

You rounded the corner, wincing at the thought of a few certain someones finding you in this state, and bumped into someone.

“Ah, shit, sorry-” you said hastily, and froze. You were about eye level with their chestplate, and you instantly recognized the green stripe across the front.

“Oh,” squeaked. Speak of the devil.

“V,” Locus rumbled, disapproval and judgement radiating through every fiber of his being.

You glanced up guiltily, imagining the stern scowl on his (pretty) face beneath the blank slate of his helmet.

“I was just… heading back to my room,” you said weakly.

“Hm,” Locus replied.

You awkwardly stepped around him, slightly discomforted by the way his helmet swivelled to keep you in his line of sight.

“You two should keep it down,” Locus told you as you passed.

You turned bright red, whipping around to face him. “I- I’m sorry?” you sputtered.

Locus held your gaze, entirely unperturbed. He tilted his head. “Felix is loud,” he said. He paused for a moment. “He usually is,” concluded, and then continued on his way.

You stood, rooted to the spot for several long seconds, mind reeling and entirely stunned. One thought stood stark and clear in the whirlwind.

_What the fuck?_

——

After several hours of lying awake in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, you were hit by the startling revelation that Locus had slept with Felix _what the fuck_.

——

When you finally emerged from your room the next day for breakfast- after a _very_ thorough shower- you immediately sought out Whiskey.

You found him milling around the corner, awkwardly scanning the room- looking for you, presumably. You nudged him with a shoulder and grinned.

“Yo,” you said.

Whiskey jumped a little and whirled around to face you, then relaxed as he saw you. “Mornin’ V!” he chirped.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” Zeta groused, appearing for the first time since the day before. His avatar fixed you with a pinning stare. “I hate you.”

“What-?” Whiskey started, but you shook your head rapidly as Zeta blinked away just as abruptly a he appeared.

“I’ll- ah- explain later,” you said, steering him away by the shoulders. “But first, I wanna introduce you to some people.”

You led him to your table, where Maui and Shirogane were already seated. Maui perked up and waved as you approached.

“Hey, newbie!” she called. She glanced at Whiskey. “And… Newbie 2.0?”

“This is Whiskey,” you said. “Whiskey, Maui and Shirogane. They’re alright.”

Maui shot Whiskey and charming grin and Shirogane nodded his head in acknowledgement. They cut an impressive pair, side by side. You could practically feel Whiskey swoon. You elbowed him.

“Hey,” he managed to squeak out.

It took some prodding from you for Whiskey to collect himself to actually sit down, and you followed suit, close enough that you could feel the comfortable warmth radiating from him.

“So you and V are partners?” Maui questioned around a forkful of mash.

“Best one I could ever ask for,” Whiskey said, hooking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in.

You snorted and batted his other hand away and he tried to steal food off your plate. “He’s a leech.”

Whiskey turned, exaggerated mock-hurt scrawled on his features, and you rolled your eyes. “He’s a good pilot,” you conceded. “And he’s always had my back.”

Zeta popped up at your shoulder. “Please,” he groaned, “I’m getting cavities just by listening to this.”

Maui laughed and even Shirogane let his mouth quick into smile, dark eyes studying you and your partners curiously.

You settled against Whiskey’s side, his arm loose and comfortable over your shoulders, and allowed yourself a small smile.

—-

The next few days passed in a comfortable rhythm. You trained and helped Whiskey get situated in the band of mercenaries that was beginning to feel a bit like home.

Felix would pop into your room and pester you sometimes- you met his interruptions with equal parts affection and exasperation. You sparred with him on occasion- winning more than you lost, which was a point of pride for you- and sometimes it led to other types of exertions, much to Zeta’s unwavering disgust. Explaining your relationship with Felix to Whiskey had been… interesting. (“So… fuckbuddies?” “I mean… I guess.”)

Locus had made himself relatively scarce- the only time you saw him was when you passed by the bridge, where you could hear him barking orders or see him leaning over the war room table.

Which was fine, you supposed, since you were still trying to digest the realization that, apparently, Locus and Felix had been a thing. Or something.

A couple days before the highly-anticipated rock-retrieval mission, Locus and Felix called you to the war room for a full mission briefing.

The three of you stood around the conference table, a holo map lighting up the room with cyan and white.

“We’re heading to Felucia,” Felix said, pacing. “Breathable atmo, sixty-forty water to land ratio, and its all jungle, basically.”

“We’ve been hired to retrieve abandoned equipment and samples,” Locus continued. “Due to the nature of the terrain, we’ll take a shuttle down here-” he gestured and the holo zoomed in onto the planet’s surface- “and travel on foot to the target site.” The map shifted again, the outline of thick trees blooming across the air. “It’s expected that mission will take about four days. We’ll pack rations and supplies accordingly.”

He paused for a moment, gaze cutting across the table to focus on you. “Felucia also has a weak elemagnetic field. It is likely that comm transmissions will be weak at best and useless at worst.”

You sighed. “Guess you’re sitting this one out, Zeta,” you said. “I’ll transfer you to Whiskey before we leave.”

“What?” Zeta sputtered, popping up at your shoulder. “You’re kidding me.”

“EM field? You’ll be lucky if you don’t fry yourself,” you pointed out.

“ _Uuuugh_ ,” Zeta groaned, long-suffering, before promptly blinking away.

“Will this be an issue?” Locus pressed.

You waved it off. “Won’t be able to run any specialized equipment, but it shouldn’t matter too much,” you said.

Locus gave you an acknowledging, if slightly doubtful, ‘hm’ in response, turning his attention back to the holo. “Once we reach the target site we can place a beacon and get the others to retrieve the heavy equipment,” he said.

“A beacon sounds like… a lot of power to transmit,” you said doubtfully. "Will it work with the EM field?"

"Got that covered," Felix said. "Got this thing custom-made by the same facility that hired us. Experimental, but should be able to transmit past the field and not short-circuit."

You hummed, head cocking to the side. "Anything else to worry about, then?"

"We are simply the preliminary scouts," Locus told you. "However, according to intel, it is highly likely we’ll encounter hostile life.”

"All the action and none of the heavy lifting,” Felix crowed, sounding just a little too pleased.

"Fun,” you replied flatly. “Any idea what this ‘hostile life’ is?”

Locus shook his head. “Felucia is largely unexplored,” he explained. “The information we have is basic at best.”

“Cool,” you muttered. “Cool cool cool. Thought I had enough of frolicking about on unknown alien planets during the war.”

“Don’t think there’s anything more intelligent than a dog,” Felix offered. “If that’s any consolation.”

You snorted, running your fingers through your loose hair. You’d been wearing your armor less and less on the ship as time went on, since the only time you were ever technically “on duty” was when you were in the field.

Locus, who seemed to have the exact opposite sentiment, was fully armored. You hadn’t seen his face since the bounty job at the club- and you still suspected that one time was one more time than most of the crew. Felix, at least, was a little more casual, helmet tossed carelessly aside but otherwise suited up.

“That’s all,” Locus said. “Drop time is 0900 in two days.”

You made an affirmative sound, turning to leave.

“Felix, V,” Locus said sharply behind you, and you paused, tilting your head curiously. Felix stopped his pacing. “If you continue to engage in… fraternization, at least make sure you do not disturb the others.”

You couldn’t get out of the room fast enough, you face burning as the door slammed shut on Felix’s enraged sputters.

Zeta was laughing at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm,,,,, uh,,,,,, considering doing a smut compilation for this fic. if uh. anyones interested (working title- you gotta do who you gotta do)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mission START!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: realized I posted an incomplete version of the chapter ripperoni. as of 4/20, completed version is now up.

Pulling Zeta- really pulling him- was something that you haven’t done in a while. Zeta flickered at Whiskey’s shoulder, and seeing the AI but not feeling him made it feel like there was a gaping hole in your head that left you reeling.

“You good?” Felix asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, massaging your temples. “Yeah, just give me a minute.”

“You have two,” Locus said, brushing by you on the way to the shuttle.

You huffed. “Thanks.”

You took a moment to compose yourself and sent a final, longing glance back at Whiskey and Zeta- the former waving exuberantly and the latter sulking- before boarding the shuttle.

You took a seat across from Locus, yanking the harness into place, and Felix slid into the seat next to you, following suit.

“How specific is this ‘target site, exactly?” you asked, bracing yourself as the shuttle shuddered to life. “Like, how many decimal points on the coordinates are we talking here?”

“The approximate radius of the target site is approximately one mile,” Locus said, stiff and toneless, as if reciting something from a book. “Estimated time to sweep the area is a full day. Possibly more. Once we find the exact location, we can drop the beacon and leave.”

You were grateful for the cover of your helmet as you grimaced. Comparatively speaking, wandering a jungle for a whole day wasn’t the most unpleasant endeavor you’ve ever undertaken, but it still sucked.

“Fun,” Felix drawled, sounding significantly less enthusiastic than he had at the briefing.

The shuttle jerked as it took off and left the hangar, and you grunted as your chestpiece knocked against the bar of the harness with a sharp clang.

You peered out the window, catching a glimpse of the planet as you started to descend. Felucia was covered with swathes of vibrant green and vivid blue, and you could see the vast spread of the jungles as the shuttle approached.

Most of the jungle was too dense to land in, so the pilot dropped down at the top of the cliff by the ocean shore, near the edge of the wilderness. The ground was damp and springy under your boots, giving a little as you jumped off the shuttle, and you idly ran a final check on your gear- rifle mag-locked to your back, pistol holstered on one thigh and combat knife sheathed on the other, a pack, stuffed with the essentials- rations, fire-starter, blanket, medpack- slung over your shoulder.

Locus was close behind, imposing as ever, beacon secured in his own pack. The drab gray and green of his armor seemed to make him melt against the shadows of the trees, near as he was, but Felix’s splash of orange made him stand out more than ever.

“God fucking damnit,” Felix said about two seconds after leaving the shuttle. “This place is humid as shit.”

“Quit complaining,” Locus said shortly.

“I’ll complain as much as I fucking want,” Felix retorted, but he sounded more miserable than angry. It was… kind of sad, actually.

Privately, though, you agreed. It was ridiculously humid- you could feel the heat pressing on you from all sides, even through your temperature-regulated survival suit, and not even the filter of your helmet could clear out the sickly-sweet scent of leaf rot.

“The shuttle will stay for five days, barring anything unexpected,” Locus said. “Which means we will have to stay on schedule.”

“...What happens if we miss it?” you asked.

“We die,” Felix said, and you aimed a kick at his shins. He danced away with snicker, much to your disappointment.

Locus ignored his partner with the ease of long-practice. “If it leaves, it will leave behind a beacon. Provided we make it back to landing site, we can simply signal it to return. In a worst case scenario, we can wait at the target site with the other beacon.”

You made a noise of acknowledgement, absentmindedly noting that it was probably the longest string of words Locus had said to you in days, eyes turning to scan dense patchwork of shrubbery and trees.

“Do not go off course under any circumstances,” Locus warned. “The maps of this area are unreliable. I will take point.”

“You got it, boss-man,” you quipped, and he shot you a withering glare.

As Locus turned to have some final words with pilot, you took a few steps towards the treeline, peering in between the gaps of the trunks into the shadows and gloom.

“Welcome to Felucia,” said Felix, voice thick with sarcasm. “Home of absolutely fucking nothing.”

“I think it’s lovely,” you said, just to be contrary, which earned you a scoff.

“We’re moving out now,” Locus interrupted. “Stay close. Do not lose sight of each other.”

“Says the guy with the camo,” Felix groused.

You huffed and raised your eyebrows, still a little off-put by his low mood, and started after Locus, with the other merc trailing behind.

Locus led you into the jungle without a word, taking long, purposeful strides that your shorter legs had to make an effort to keep up with.

Your attention constantly shifted to the wildlife around you, from the dense, vibrant foliage to the flashes of color above you as bird-like creatures flit from branch to branch.

“Wow,” you breathed, eyes wide with wonder. “I haven’t seen anything like this before.”

“You were never deployed to a climate like this?” Locus asked, looking back at you.

You snapped to attention, not expecting him to respond. “Ah- no,” you said. “I was mostly sent to urban areas. Only uncolonized planets I went to were sub-zero, not-” you paused, waving a hand vaguely- “this.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, turning back to the front.

You quickened your steps to catch up with him. “Where were you?” you asked, trying your luck. “During the war, I mean.”

He went quiet, and you frowned, figuring you had pushed too much.

You started to slow and fall back when Locus said, “Reach.” A beat. “Our last battle was the Siege of Alexandria.”

Your eyes went wide, and you paused mid-step, staring at his back. “Oh,” you said quietly.

The Fall of Reach was well-known as the one of the worst battles of the Great War, with massive losses for civilians and military both. Freelancer hadn’t touched that battle at all, leaving it entirely to SPARTAN- you in particular had been on a recon mission in the inner colonies when the news hit- humanity’s fortress decimated, entire cities glassed.

Sneaking around Insurrectionists seemed a lot less important after that.

Apologies sounded hollow, but you were just mustering up the balls to do it when Felix’s voice rang out behind you.

“Slow down, assholes!” he shouted.

Locus huffed, a low note of irritation, and slowed his pace. Felix crashed out from the underbrush, scowling beneath his helmet.

“Christ, what is this, bootcamp?” he griped. “Slow down, for fuck’s sake.”

“You’re slow,” Locus said flatly.

“He’s right,” you piped up, jumping at the change of conversation. “What, you getting tired already?”

“ _I’m_ not tired, _you’re_ tired,” he shot back. “ _I_ could do this shit all day.”

You snorted at his blustering and Locus almost definitely rolled his eyes, turning back to whatever path he had planned and trudging onward.

* * *

 

“We’ll make camp here tonight,” Locus announced. “The target site is three hours out.”

“I’ll take first watch,” you volunteered. You still had some energy to burn, which was more than you could say for Felix, so you might as well put it to good use.

Locus made an acknowledging noise, and Felix waved a hand at you in lieu of a verbal response, dropping his pack on the ground and slumping down against a tree with an exhausted groan.

“Wake me for the second watch,” Locus told you. “Two and a half hours per shift.”

You nodded, slinging off your pack and setting it down by Felix. He had taken off his helmet, hair damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead, and was sprawled out on the ground.

“This place sucks,” he said, a gloved hand slicking the hair off his face.

You snorted, nudging his leg with a booted toe as you passed. “Get some rest,” you said. “You got the morning shift.”

His responding groan made you snicker as you headed towards the edge of the clearing, unholstering your rifle and holding it loosely in your hands. You caught a glimpse of Locus taking off his helmet, ration pack in hand, before you slipped past the trees and your view of the clearing was obscured by the thick tangle of trees and foliage.

You strolled leisurely, following a broad arc around the perimeter. You weren’t as alert as perhaps you should have been- it was honestly more of a walk than a patrol- and you were easily distracted by the odd brightly colored flower or bird-like creatures that flitted above your head, but other than the soft rustle of the wind and the regular buzz of the animals, there was absolutely nothing of note.

It was peaceful.

You kept an absent minded eye on the time on your HUD, taking in the unfamiliar sights. As the sky darkened from indigo to inky black, and you switched your visor to night vision, everything suddenly awash with an eerie, luminous green. You flicked on thermals for a moment to do a sweep. You noted a few small heat signatures above you- the almost-bird things, undoubtedly- a couple more burrowed underground, and then, more distantly, the forms of Locus and Felix in the clearing.

You circled the perimeter a few more times before your shift was over, your nerves settling and taking comfort in the cooler nighttime air, and you crept back toward the clearing. You located Felix easily enough, sprawled out as he was on the ground, fast asleep, and you gave him a wide berth so you wouldn’t disturb him, making your way towards Locus, who was sitting, arms crossed, against a tree.

It looked like he was sleeping, apparently not noticing your approach, and you briefly debated the best way to wake him. Eventually you crouched down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder to give him a little shake.

The shaking was unnecessary- Locus jolted into awareness as soon as you touched him, catching your wrist in an iron grip and yanking you forward at the same time he kicked your legs out from under you, and you gracelessly face-planted into the dirt with an undignified yelp.

He noticed his mistake immediately. “V,” he said, voice almost entirely flat, with only the barest hint of confusion.

“Um,” you said, lifting your head and propping yourself up with your elbows. “It’s your shift.”

There was a moment of silence, and you gingerly pushed yourself up so you leaned back on your haunches.

“...Of course,” Locus managed to grit out, getting to his feet. “Get some rest.”

You watched his retreating back as he strode out of the clearing, grey and green melting into the shadows, and sighed.

You took off your helmet and set it aside, sliding over to the recently-vacated spot by the tree, faintly warm where Locus had been. Sleep came quick.

* * *

 

When Day One of the expedition went so well, it was practically guaranteed that Day Two would go to shit.

At first, it didn’t seem like anything was wrong- Felix woke you with booted toe to the ribs, and, with Locus already up, the three of you packed up your meager camp and ate a hasty, tasteless breakfast of MRE’s before re-orienting yourself and beginning the trek once more.

It seemed like a straightforward hike- about fifteen klicks in a north-by-north-east direction, and then you would be in the area of the target, and then it would just be a matter of making a sweep and dropping the beacon before doubling back.

First came the rain. It was just a drizzle, at first, barely enough for Felix to start complaining about, but just an hour in it started coming down in earnest, hard enough that you could feel the pressure of the droplets through your survival suit.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Felix said flatly, and promptly slipped in a patch of mud, slamming into a tree trunk with a particularly verbose string of profanities.

“Could be worse,” you commented wryly.

“Don’t even start,” Felix groaned, and then, as if on cue, a flash of lightning arced through the sky, the rumble of thunder quick on its heels.

“Huh,” you said. “That’s not good.” You glanced at Locus. “Do you think the transport shuttle left?”

“It’s a possibility,” he replied, “but it will likely attempt to wait out the storm.”

“Storm should burn itself out soon,” Felix added. “Can’t imagine something like this lasting for more than a couple days.”

You nodded and glanced at the map on your HUD. There were about another six clicks to your destination, and you were making good time.

What the map didn’t tell you about was the massive cliff that suddenly sprouted from the ground as soon as you broke the treeline.

You stared up, neck craned uncomfortably so you could peer at the top, rainwater sluicing in sheets over the edge. “Huh,” you said.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Felix said.

Locus growled lowly. “Split up,” he ordered, irritation clipping his words short. “Find a way past. Radio in if you find anything.”

He turned heel to leave, footsteps muffled by the drum of the rain.

Your mouth twisted into a frown, turning to Felix. “Guess we’re going the other way.”

Felix shrugged dismissively. “He hates it when we have to improvise,” he said, starting a leisure pace. “Probably pisses him off more than I do.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you retorted, falling into step beside him. Another flash of lightning lit up the sky, a streak of white against the dull, charcoal gray of the clouds.

The two of you trudged onwards, eyes scanning the cliff face. It was difficult to see past the rain, crags and boulders little more than blurred shadows.

Felix cocked his head. “What’s that?” he said, pointing ahead.

You squinted, making out a dark stripe than ran vertically up the rocks, and you approached slowly.

There was a massive crevice, like something had cleaved it through, slightly wider at the top than the base. Rain ran in heavy rivulets down the jagged sides, the water almost ankle-deep.

“Can’t go over it, can’t go around it,” Felix said, eyes glinting.

“That,” you said, “looks _really_ shady.”

He shrugged. “It’s the only way we’ve found. I’ll radio Locus.”

You tuned out the comms check, peering into the pass, when a sudden tremor shook the ground beneath you, and you instinctively grabbed Felix’s shoulder to steady yourself. The rock face around you groaned ominously.

“Hm,” you said. “I _really_ don’t like that.”

“Better move fast, then,” Felix said.

You bit your tongue and grimaced.

It took Locus a few minutes to get to the two of you- you saw his silhouette jogging towards you through the rain, and you nudged Felix to get his attention.

“Looks like it goes straight through,” you told Locus as he arrived. “But we should move quickly. Felt a tremor earlier.”

“Good,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Once again Locus took point, and you followed as close as you could, picking your way through the uneven ground and loose rubble. Water poured over the edge from both sides like waterfalls, dousing you if you walked too close from the walls.

You vaguely noted Felix keeping up a steady stream of curses and complaints behind you, Locus stoically silent up front.

There was a low rumble, and all three of you froze. A few pebbles clattered down at your feet, and you glanced up warily.

You turned to look back at Felix, who was lagging behind. You could still see entrance of the pass behind him, and you pursed your lips.

“We need to keep moving,” Locus said, voice tight, and you were inclined to agree.

You had taken all of two steps when a crack pierced the air like a gunshot. Silence hung in the air for just a moment, and then all at once the walls began to crumble down.

Felix’s head whipped up, eyes wide behind his visor. “Oh,” he muttered. “ _Shit_.”

“Get back!” you shouted. “Go, go!”

You started to run back towards the entrance, stumbling when Locus grabbed by the arm and yanked you back just in time for a chunk of stone half the size of your entire body to crash to the ground in front of you.

“Go!” he barked, shoving you in the opposite direction, and you took off without further prompting, the crack and shudder of the walls ringing in your ears.

You bolted forward, and suddenly the exit was in sight and you sprinted for it, risking a glance behind you to make sure that Locus was on your heels. Water sloshed at your feet, your steps kicking up sprays of mud.

You were _right fucking there_ when Locus slammed into you, tackling you and sending both of you flying out the mouth of the pass and knocking every square inch of air from your chest.

Your landing was equally rough, and the two of you rolled a dozen feet before slowing to a stop. It took a few moments after that for your lungs to remember how to breathe, and you finally heaved a deep, shuddering breath.

“Mother _fucker_ ,” you wheezed, eyes squeezed shut, taking a few more precious gulps of air to feed your adrenalin-addled brain.

When you finally opened your eyes and saw nothing but a blur of gray and green in front of you, you blinked a few times, vaguely wondering if Locus had somehow managed to give you a concussion before realizing that your helmet was planted squarely on top of his chestplate, and that Locus’ arms were wrapped tightly around you and your legs were tangled together.

“Ow,” you said. Then, “Locus, you okay?”

You could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he grunted, arms falling to his sides, and you rolled off of him, stumbling into a crouch. “I’m fine,” he said shortly, slowly clambering to his feet.

You looked back at the pass, eyes widening in shock. It was completely caved in, the mouth all but buried under the rock and rubble.

“Shit,” you breathed. “Felix!”

You fumbled for your comms, teeth biting into the inside of your cheek. “Felix, can you hear me? Felix?!”

For a few precious seconds there was silence, and your heart very nearly caught in your throat, before your radio crackled to life.

“ _Yeah, barely_ ,” he responded, voice tinny and distant. “ _I’m fine, by the way, thanks for asking._ ”

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, shoulders slumping with relief.

“Where are you?” Locus asked.

“ _Back outside_ ,” Felix responded. “ _Entrance is completely caved in, there’s no way I can make it through_.”

“Same on this end,” you said, running a hand over the face of the rocks. “Looks like we’re stuck on this side.”

“Can you make it back to the shuttle?” Locus cut in.

There was a considerate moment. “ _Yeah, probably. We’re, what? A day out?_ ”

“Then do it. V and I will complete the objective. We’ll find a way back ourselves.”

“ _Fine. Any last words? If I get any further I think comms’ll be useless_.”

“Stay safe,” you said.

There was a pause. “ _Yeah. You too. See you soon._ ”

There was a hiss as your comms disconnected, and you heaved a sigh.

“Guess we’re on our own,” you said.

Locus sighed.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things, obviously, get worse, because V’s life if just Like That.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really dont have an excuse for how late this was, especially considering ive had like 2k of this written since,,, march? other than im a lazy butthead.

You and Locus left the caved-in pass behind you, the rain stripping away the mud your armor had accumulated during your tumble, and trudged on into the jungle.

You pointedly avoided thinking about how the two of you would get back. Bridges and crossing and whatnot.

\--

The two of you continued onward in stifling silence.

Well, stifling for you, at least. Locus seemed perfectly comfortable not saying a single word as he led.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, ducking under a drooping branch and nearly tripping over a protruding root for your troubles,

Locus grabbed your shoulder and yanked you upright as you wobbled, and you mumbled an embarrassed, “Thanks.” He grunted noncommittally in response, an unspoken, “watch your step,” written in the judgemental tilt of his head.

Christ.

“We’re almost to the objective,” Locus said suddenly, the first words since the cave-in.

You quietly prayed to every deity that you could think of that you found target site quickly. The last thing you wanted was to be stumbling around in the rain looking for it for the whole day.

\--

The deities had apparently heard your pleas and blessed you, because barely an hour after reaching the edge of the objective, you found the scientists’ camp, largely thanks to the neat and obviously man-made path of cleared trees and underbrush.

“Oh,” you breathed, “thank _god_.”

It looked about as good as you’d expect an abandoned camp to look, equipment left wherever it was last used, floodlights still on and generator humming away and mingling with the thrum of the rain.

“Good,” Locus said, which was just about as much of a reaction as you were ever going to get.

He shrugged the beacon off his back and dropped it to the ground, and you busied yourself with snooping as he fiddled. There were some military-grade tent systems set up as what looked like makeshift labs. You poking your head in one. Stainless steel folding tables are set down the center, with equipment of you could only assume was of the scientific nature laid out on top.

There were some decaying organic samples in metal trays- plant matter, mostly, it looked like, and petri dishes that were likely contaminated at this point.

You hummed thoughtfully, hopping out and trotting around the perimeter. There were signs of various- splintered bark on trees from gunfire and claws, overturned machinery- but no bodies, which you were thankful for.

“I’m done,” Locus said, voice crackling over comms.

“Roger,” you replied, pivoting and heading back.

Locus was getting back onto his feet just as you arrived, rolling his shoulders, and you saw his muscles bunch in the gap between his armor,

Locus, you noted, not for the first time, was built like a brick shithouse.

“Any plans on how to get back?” you asked, rocking back on your heels.

He was quiet for a moment, head cocked. You imagined that his was checking something on his HUD.

“It seems there’s a traversable slope to the top of the cliff,” he said slowly.

You winced. “Define ‘traversable.’”

“Difficult, but possible.”

“Define ‘difficult.’”

Locus fixed you with an unimpressed stare. You shrugged.

“We’re heading back,” he said flatly, turning on his heel, and you huffed and followed.

You stayed two steps behind and one step to the side, and the two of you hiked back just as silent as when you arrived.

You travelled for the better part of two hours, trudging through mud and sloshing through puddles before the ground beneath you transitioned from dirt to stone as you approached the cliffs. The rain steadily increased in pressure until it was a downpour, sleuthing through the canopy in thick streams and roaring above your heads.

“We need to veer east,” Locus said.“The cliffs should be less steep there.”

You nodded, bringing your arms over your head in a long stretch. Water ran off the waxed surface of your suit. The cold didn’t reach you past the insulation, but the pressure did.

Something shifted in your periphery. You froze.

Locus paused. “V?”

“I think I saw something,” you said, swinging your rifle off your back. “Ten o’clock.”

Locus cocked his head, slowly turning.

A shadow flashed by in the corner of your eye and you whipped around, gun at the ready. “What the fuck,” you muttered.

“Move up,” Locus told you. “There’s a clearing up ahead, we need to get out of the trees.”

You nodded. Out of the trees was good. There was too much cover here, with the underbrush and massive trunks.

The two of you dashed forward, and you heard crash through the bushes behind you.

That couldn’t be good.

You pivoted as soon as you broke through the treeline, jogging backwards to keep putting distance between you and whatever was out there. Locus kept going, reaching the center a scant few seconds before you did.

Over a dozen… beasts circled you. They looked like someone had taken the head of an angler fish and attached it to the body of an emaciated dog, and then covered the thing in armadillo armor. Spiked barbs lined their backs, like the spines of a lionfish. Wide, glassy eyes bore into you, and you slowly stepped away until your back was flush with Locus.

“I think,” you said quietly, “we found the aggressive wildlife.”

You felt rather than heard his responding rumble, and tightening your grip on your rife.

A snarl was the only warning you got before one of them lunged at you. You slammed the butt of your rifle on its head and kicked it away, just in time for another to leap at you from the side.

You ducked and it sailed over your head. The resounding crack of a shotgun sounded behind you and the beast screeched as it fell. You gunned down the other.

The others came at you at the same time- you shot one head on, swearing as the things hurtled towards you. You leapt out of the way, skidding on the wet ground and scrambling to your feet, wielding your rifle like a bat as you shoved them back to give yourself room.

The staccato bursts of shotgun blasts, barely audible above the roaring rain, signalled that Locus was dealing with his own batch of animals, the muzzle flashes and indistinct blurs the only thing you could see in the downpour.

The rattle of your rifle shots cracked through din as you backed up, teeth bared and snarling. Rather than take the time to reload, you dropped your gun and pulled your sidearm, twisting to dodge snapping teeth and firing half-blind into the shadows. A pained squeal let you know you hit something, and you shifted your aim just in time for another to leap at you.

It slammed into you side and you landed on the ground with the wind knocked out of you. It took you a moment to force air back into your lungs, a near-crushing weight on your chest and claws scrabbling at your breastplate, and you fumbled for the knife secured at your thigh.

You hand found the hilt and you wrenched it from its holster and slammed the blade into the body on top of you. It reeled back with a shriek and you kicked it off stabbed it again for good measure.

You swung your other arm out and fired your handgun four times, and the last two beasts fell- one going limp mid-lunge and skidding on its side as it hit the ground.

You bounced back to onto your feet and ran back to where you had last seen Locus, handgun lowered but still at the ready.

You made out his silhouette in the distance, barely more than a shadow against the grey sheet of rain, and slowed to a jog.

“Locus!” you called. “Hey, are you-?!”

“Stop!” he barked, and and you froze, skidding to a halt. “There’s one left,” he warned you.

You immediately pivoted, scanning the underbrush.

The rain pounded down, near-deafening, and it wasn’t until Locus suddenly rammed into your side and sent you skidding that you saw the creature lunging for you.

You watched in frozen, wide-eyed horror as it slammed into Locus instead, jaws tearing at his shoulder, and he went down hard. There was an audible crack as his helmet struck the stone beneath him, and he went limp.

You swore violently and fired- _bang bang_ \- and the beast shrieked lurched off, and you raced over and finished it off with a final bullet and _oh_. Locus didn’t look good.

Blood was rapidly forming a puddle underneath him, and you couldn’t tell how much of it was rainwater and how much of it was actually blood, and he wasn’t moving.

“Fuck,” you muttered. “Oh, no, no, no, c’mon!”

You just stared for a moment, mind whirling and trying to figure out what the actual _fuck_ you were going to do, before forcibly calming yourself. “Okay,” you said. “Okay. We need to… not be here.”

You hooked you arms under his and hauled him to his feet- _fuck_ , he was heavy, what you wouldn’t give for your strength unit right now- and, with an impressive bit of luck and not-so-impressive footwork- you maneuvered yourself next to him and slung his arm around his shoulder.

“Alright,” you said. “Baby steps. Let’s… look for shelter. That’s a good idea, right?”

Predictably, Locus didn’t answer.

He was completely limp, practically a ragdoll. (An almost literal dead-weight, some inappropriately pessimistic part of you whispered.)

The rain kept pounding down, and while the slick ground beneath you made it easier to drag Locus around, it also made it a lot harder to keep your footing.

You were starting to consider just hunkering down behind the meager cover of the trees when you saw something just beyond the haze of rain- a shadow in the cliff face.

You stumbled towards it with a final burst of energy, nearly grinning as you approached. You could make out the curve of a shallow cave, carved roughly into the stone.

You hauled Locus under the cover, heading deeper to avoid the water that might trickle in before you finally settled down. The cave itself wasn’t particularly deep, but it protecting you from the rain and wind, and there was enough space for the both of you.

“Okay,” you said, shedding your pack taking stock of your supplies. “Okay- uh- step one, we have to clean you up.”

Locus, predictably, made no response. He barely reacted as you started to strip off his armor from the waist up, setting his helmet to the side, and peeled off the sleeves of his survival suit. You winced sympathetically as you tugged the torn edges away from the half-coagulated blood around the angry punctures at his chest, pulling the material down to his hips.

When you finished with that, you paused and gave him a once over, checking for other injuries, and you froze. Pale strips of scar tissue criss-crossed all over his body. Old wounds, by the look them, but uneven and jagged.

You swallowed thickly.

Turning away from him for a moment, you ran through your survival training as you dug through your pack your medpack.

The bite came first. You pressed a finger against Locus’ wrist- his pulse was rapid and fluttering unevenly. Pursing your lips, you brushed your forehead against his. His skin felt clammy and cold, and when you pulled back you noticed that, even in the dim light, he looked ashen and pale.

Blood loss, definitely, you noted. Shock was another possibility. The crackle of the electrical storm echoed against the stony walls, and you never missed Zeta so much. What you wouldn’t give for your partner to be here, guiding you through something like this.

You bit your lip fiercely, nearly drawing blood as you pulled out a canister of biofoam and grabbed a bottle of antiseptic, pouring some on a pad of gauze. You wiped the ragged edges of his wound clean as you could, your hands gentle and meticulous, before dousing the whole cut.

You cracked open the canister, white foam fizzing at the tip, and pushed it into the gash. The foam sprayed out and filled the wound, turning tacky and sealing it in a matter of moments.

A strained groan escaped Locus’ mouth, and, even unconscious, he flinched away.

“Sorry,” you told him softly. “Almost done, almost done.” You set a fresh patch of gauze over the injury, binding it firmly. It was awkward to wrap the bandages across his chest, having to shift Locus’ whole body to wind them around his back.

You grimaced at the cold, clammy feel of his skin. Next order of business- warmth.

Which also brought your to next problem- the distinct lack of anything that could be used to build a fire.

You tugged off a glove, brushing a hand over Locus’ cheek. He was worryingly unresponsive to your touch.

“C’mon, _c’mon_ ,” you muttered. “Stay with me, Locus.”

You grabbed a spare rag from your pack, running it over his shoulders, where the rain had seeped through the gash in his undersuit. You gently wiped the sweat off his face next, gingerly smoothing the cloth across his cheeks.

It came away… brown. You blinked, rubbing a bit more insistently at the line of his cheekbone, the rag turning the same shade as his Locus’ skin as more and more… makeup rubbed off, revealing the edge of a pale, silvery scar that started at his cheek and stretched diagonally towards the bridge of his nose. The rest was still covered up, but you could guess what shape it took, if the scars that covered the rest of his body were anything to go by

‘The Sangheili favor blades in torture,’ Shirogane had told you.

“Shit,” you muttered.

Vaguely, you noticed that his hair was loose- the tie lost to the flurry of movement that was the past few minutes. Dark hair spilled over his shoulders, almost ink-black in the light.

You shook yourself out of your stupor and finished drying him off as best you could with the small cloth, keeping your movements and gentle as you could.

You noticed, with no small amount of concern, that Locus wasn’t getting any warmer. The weather wasn’t exactly helping- your HUD read out an ambient temperature of a solid fifty degrees Fahrenheit.

“Okay,” you said. “Okay. We need to get you warm-” you yanked the military-grade blanket out of your pack- “because if the shock doesn’t get you then the hypothermia will.”

You startled to bundle the blanket around him and paused.

The insulation would help Locus retain heat- but at the moment, every inch of him was freezing cold. There wasn’t much heat to retain.

In the absence of a fire or any other reasonable source of warmth, that left… sharing body heat.

“Fuck’s sake,” you muttered. “Please don’t be mad at me when you wake up.”

You swallowed thickly and started to strip off your dripping armor, pulling off you helmet and shaking your hair loose. Hesitantly, you reached for the zipper of your undersuit, tugging it down to your hips, leaving you bare from the waist up save for your sports bra, and grabbed the blanket, pulling it over the two of you.

You curled around him, carefully adjusting his arm so you could rest your head on his shoulder and settled against him and winced as his frigid skin pressed against yours, sapping away your heat.

You slung an arm around his torso, fingers brushing against the gauze patch, and tucked your head just below his collar, resting on the uninjured side of his chest. His heart thrummed, the pulse steadier and stronger than before- if only just slightly.

Exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks, and your eyes drooped shut, lulled to sleep by the soft rhythm of Locus’ heart.

\---

You woke within the hour and then stayed awake- you took the opportunity to change which side of Locus you were sleeping on so your warmth would distribute more evenly, ignoring the gooseflesh that prickled your skin whenever you left the relative safety of the blanket.

In the fourth hour, Locus woke up.

You sat up in an instant, cursing and muttering an apology when you jostled him and he breathed out a pained groan. Then you blinked.

“Locus,” you said. Then, “Christ, are you okay? How’re you feeling?”

He murmured something, practically inaudible.

You leaned forward, brushing your fingertips against his jaw. “Locus?”

“‘M’not-” he mumbled, low and slurred with exhaustion and pain. He twitched, seeming to struggle for a moment before falling limp.

“Locus? Locus!” You nudged him, urging him back to wakefulness.

Locus stared at you uncomprehendingly for a few moments, looking dazed. His brow was furrowed, lips parted slightly.

You sighed a little. “Can you sit up?” you asked. “We should eat. Come on.”

You reached over him to grab your pack and rifled through the ration packs. You had enough to last the two of you for a couple days- hopefully the storm would have abated and Locus would be recovered enough so that you could make it back to the extraction site.

In those few moments, Locus seemed to regain a little more lucidity, his breathing slowing and levelling out and eyes a little brighter and more aware.

“V,” he said quietly, pushing himself up with his elbows. The blanket fell to his hips, bandages and scars on full display.

“Yeah?”

He didn’t reply, studying you silently, like he was cataloguing what was around him, trying to construct an explanation to his current state.

“You were- uh- pretty out of it,” you offered, motioning to his heavily bandaged shoulder. “We’re taking shelter here for now.”

He nodded slowly, taking the ration pack you offered him without comment. He tore it open and you followed suit, grabbing a square of some hard, tasteless flatbread and taking a dry bite.

The silence between the two of you was stiff and uncomfortable. You wordlessly passed him your canteen and he upturned it and took several long gulps before pouring some water into hand and wiping it across his face. The makeup washed off, the x-shaped scar centered between his eyes revealed, and you averted your gaze.

“I’m gonna have to keep you awake,” you said, half to tell him, half just to break the silence. “You took a nasty hit to the head, and you probably have a concussion.”

Locus made a low noise of acknowledgement, taking another swig of water before capping the canteen and handing it back to you. He paused. “You’re naked.”

You glanced down at yourself. Your sports bra was firmly in place, and the sleeves of your undersuit were tied at your hips like a pair of drastically unfashionable overalls. “Not really.” Although he might have been referring to the fact that your armor was discarded in a pile on the other side of the cave.

Locus gave you a perfunctory once-over- face-boobs-hips, then back up- and made a vaguely dismissive sound.

That was. Well. Professional and a bit relieving, but deeply unflattering.

“To be fair,” you said. “I’m wearing more than you are.”

He blinked.

You pointedly glanced down at his chest.

He looked down. He scowled.


End file.
